Somewhere Out There
by RainaWrites
Summary: Members from the Enterprise are on a routine away mission when they witness a fiery crash. They pull a single survivor from the wreckage-a young woman who looks eerily familiar. Her presence begs questions that hit close to home. And the answers will send shockwaves throughout the future as they know it.
1. Dropping In

**A/N: Hello readers! I am writing as much as I can in the midst of preparing to move, but I already have some stuff done and so I should be able to keep up a steady pace for you all.**

 **I hope you follow along and most of all, I hope you are excited! I know I sure am! I have missed publishing on here. This story is going to be a series of "episodes" with one main overarching theme, like the show. But it will remain centered around my original character. Each "episode" will be under its own story on my account, except for this one, which is more like two episodes. I kept them together because it's more like a "to be continued" sort of thing. Part 1 only goes to Chapter 20. Part 2 is Chapter 21 on.**

 **Anyways, I started watching Next Gen during my super difficult pregnancy, and so the show is very close to my heart. Hopefully I will do its characters justice.**

 **See you on the Final Frontier!**

* * *

William Riker gazed out at the purple horizon. A brilliant, shimmering sun etched streaks of color across the alien sky. It had been sunset for thirteen hours, and the Starfleet commander had been on that god-forsaken planet for three of them. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple. He wiped it away and squared his broad shoulders. "How much longer, Geordi?" he called.

Lieutenant Geordi Laforge appeared between a pair of boulders with a handheld device. "Soon, commander. I think the captain will be pretty happy about our findings. I've never seen such high concentrations of deuterium, and so close to the surface. Mining would be minimal."

"Good. I'm getting hungry." He leapt down to Laforge's level. "Is it just me, or does that cloud look like a nice, juicy steak?"

Laforge laughed. "I believe you've been in this heat too long. A few more minutes, I promise. Just gotta finish measuring this-"

They were interrupted by a thunderous crack that seemed to split the sky in two. Riker ducked instinctively, shielding his eyes with one hand as he scanned their surroundings for danger. Echoes of the crack were swallowed by a rumbling that shook the pebbles at his feet.

"Geordi! Are you alright?" he shouted.

"Yes sir! What's going on?"

"There!" Riker pointed to a fiery cloud that hurtled towards the horizon. He watched, transfixed, as the cloud burned off to reveal a spacecraft of some sort. It spun out of control, its wings singed and a long, ugly scar on one side.

"Riker to bridge!" He tapped his combadge hurriedly. "Something just entered the planet's atmosphere!"

Data's voice came through. "Our sensors just picked it up," the android said. "Strange...we should have seen it sooner."

"Are there any lifeforms aboard? It's about to crash!" Riker's eyes widened as the vessel tore over the treeline, snapping off limbs and sending up flurries of foliage. But the forest fought back, clawing at its belly so that pieces of twisted metal lay scattered behind, smoldering bright as the sunset.

"Commander-" It was Data again. "There is one life form. Vitals are fading. Are you close by?"

"We're on our way." Riker's feet flew across the rock-strewn ground with a renewed sense of urgency. The wreckage glowed up ahead like a beacon, guiding both officers deeper into the forest. At last they came upon a great plume of flames. A ravenous fire devoured the craft, filling the sky with smoke and raining ashes upon Riker's shoulders as he searched for signs of life. Then, with a thump of hope, he spotted the shape of a person slumped over the controls in what was left of the cockpit. He rushed fearlessly forward, the flames licking at his face, and hoisted the body over his shoulder.

"This way!" Laforge appeared at his side. He guided the commander away from the crash and together, they made their way through the tangle of trees until the forest thinned out once more. Safe at last, Riker let the body sink gently to the ground.

"She's in bad shape," Laforge remarked. Riker rubbed his eyes and then squinted at the small figure that lay before him. She looked young, barely out of her teens. Raven dark hair, matted with blood, fanned out around her pale face. Patches of burned flesh showed through her tattered uniform, still crackling and hissing with embers.

"Do you have a lock on us?" Riker panted into his combadge. "The survivor is in need of immediate medical attention." The young woman stirred. A faint groan passed through her bloodied lips. "Lie still. Everything's going to be alright," he promised. Her eyes cracked open, and Riker felt a swell of pity for the way she shuddered with the effort.

"Beaming you aboard now," Data advised. The forest around them faded away.


	2. Awake

**A/N: Elementa, you are awesome! I hope you keep enjoying it :-)**

* * *

"What's the situation, doctor?"

Beverly Crusher looked up from her patient to find the captain standing nearby. She blew out a weary sigh and shook her head. "Critical."

Picard's gaze softened as it fell upon the injured young woman. Her chest heaved with halting, uneven breaths. Her eyelids fluttered as if trying to open. "Has she regained consciousness yet?"

"She wavers in and out. But she's sure fighting hard."

Picard nodded approvingly. "Admirable."

He moved closer to better examine their newest passenger. She wore a long, burgundy tunic with black across the chest and shoulders and matching black trousers. A utility belt was clasped around her waist, lined with empty holsters.

"She had weapons on her?" the captain deduced.

"Yes. Multiple types of phasers and knives. And there was something else-" Crusher turned to a nearby table and retrieved a small device from its surface. She placed this device into Picard's palm.

He stared at it, bewildered. "Is this-is this a communicator?" He picked up the V-shaped badge with his other hand and held it aloft for closer scrutiny.

"Yes. I tried to see if I could reach anybody, but nothing came through."

"She is from Starfleet, then?" Picard turned his attention back to the patient sprawled on the cot beside them. "Surely she is too young to be an officer."

"I've taken a blood test, and Bettencourt is running it through the database as we speak. Hopefully we'll have a name soon."

"I don't understand," Picard said with a shake of his head. "Where could she have come from? Why was she alone? There have been no reports of any vessels under attack in this sector. And her uniform-what do you make of it?"

"I've never seen it before. But it does look reminiscent of ours, doesn't it?" Crusher's lips curved into a half-smile. "There's something familiar about her overall, in fact. I can't quite place it."

Picard grunted his concession. "I know what you mean. Her face...it is almost as if..." He trailed off, shaking his head once more. "Well, hopefully she will provide us with some answers when she wakes. Inform me right away of any changes in her state."

* * *

Several hours passed before the doctor heard her speak. "Who's there?" her voice rasped. She lifted herself onto her elbows with effort.

Crusher approached, smiling warmly. "It's alright. You had a pretty bad crash. But lucky for you, a couple of our officers were able to pull you out. You're safe now."

"Safe?" She struggled to sit up all the way, but Crusher placed her hands on her shoulders.

"Please stay down. You need your rest."

The young woman grabbed hold of Crusher's wrists with startling swiftness and strength. "Who are you? What am I doing here?" she demanded.

The doctor quelled a surge of apprehension rising in her chest. She answered clearly and slowly: "My name is Beverly Crusher. I'm a Starfleet medical officer. You were injured-"

"Starfleet? You are from Starfleet?" Her grip loosened slightly.

"Yes."

"What outpost is this?" The young woman blinked as she looked around the room for the first time. Her hands fell back down to the bed.

"We're not on an outpost," Crusher replied, straightening back up. "We're on a ship. The U.S.S. Enterprise."

"The-the _what_?" She swung her feet over the side of the cot, gripping the edge to steady herself.

"The Enterprise," Crusher repeated, backing away a step. "Can you tell me your name?"

But the patient did not answer. Her face hardened, drawing taut with lines of contempt. Her eyes turned slowly, menacingly, towards the doctor. "Who did you say you were?"

Crusher backed away further. One hand reached up and tapped her badge. "Captain, the patient is awake. Requesting security."

Without warning, the young woman leapt from the cot and knocked Crusher into a nearby tray. She clattered to the floor amidst a hail of medical instruments. "No-stop!" the doctor shouted. But it was too late. Her attacker had already fled.


	3. On the Run

The young, raven-haired woman bolted down the hallway. After she came around the first corner, she skidded to a less-than-graceful stop. A host of security officers blocked the far end. They hurriedly drew their phasers and levelled them with her chest.

"Stay where you are!" one of them shouted. She hesitated, glancing side to side like a cornered animal. They inched towards her tentatively, expecting her to turn and flee at any second. But she did not flee. Instead, she ducked her head and barrelled straight towards them.

"No! I said stop!" Several phasers fired. But she took a flying leap off the nearest wall, dodging their fire and propelling herself into their midst. There was a snap as she broke the first arm to throw a punch in her direction, then a sickening sound as she sent another officer down over his own leg. The rest of them were rendered unconscious with cruel, ruthless efficiency.

Just as the final guard dropped to the floor, Picard rounded the corner. He was accompanied by chief of security, Worf. The Klingon stepped in front of his captain protectively. "You there! Stop!" he bellowed.

She whipped around to face him. Her eyes narrowed to slits. "How dare you! You would-you would _desecrate_ -" she sputtered, enraged, as she took a step towards him. Just then, phaser fire blasted into the wall where she had been standing. She turned, startled, and found another group of security officers bearing down on her. With a vicious snarl, she threw herself at her new assailants.

Worf raced to their assistance. She flung an officer at him, knocking them both asunder. Then she grabbed the next nearest one and laced her arm around his throat. Her other hand snaked to his waist, where she wrested his phaser free. "Drop your weapons!" she shouted, pressing the phaser against his temple. Her thumb switched it to maximum.

"Listen to her! Stand down!" Picard ordered. Worf and the remaining guards backed away, dropping their phasers begrudgingly. Picard lifted his hands in surrender and began to move forward with slow, cautious steps.

"Get back!" She tightened her arm around the hostage's throat.

"Just tell me what it is that you want," Picard said calmly, continuing his encroach.

"No more games," she growled. "Where are we?"

"You are aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. My name is Captain Jean Luc-"

"Picard? No it isn't," she snapped. "You are an impostor! And you desecrate his name with this charade!" She glared at him with blue, baleful eyes that pierced him like daggers.

The captain paused, caught off guard by the bizarre accusation. "What makes you think I am an impostor?"

"Picard is _dead!_ " She spat out the word as though it tasted bitter in her mouth. "Now tell me the truth, or this one dies!" Her arm tightened once more. The officer gargled for breath and began to writhe like a fish out of water in her grip.

"Please! Let him go! I think there has been a misunderstan-" A phaser shot interrupted their exchange. The young woman doubled over in pain, giving her hostage a chance to crawl away on his knees. Someone approached, standing before her with phaser still drawn and trained. Her jaw fell open when she caught sight of his formidable figure.

"Do not move again," Commander Riker warned.

Anguish replaced the anger in her eyes. "No," she breathed, slumping to the floor in capitulation. "I won't do it. I won't fight you."


	4. Questions and Answers

**A/N: Elementa-This takes place in the earlier seasons, before they meet the Borg. This is actually going to alter the way they end up encountering the Borg. As for pairings, there are the ones from the show (Picard-Crusher, Riker-Troi) and then there will be one in future chapters involving the woman they rescued and another original character. Thanks so much for the reviews! I am so excited that you love my story so far! You make my day :-)**

* * *

A clatter of boots filled the brig as Picard, Riker, and Counselor Troi filed in. The young woman sat with her back to them, leaning one shoulder against the bulkhead. She showed no interest in having an audience.

Picard tilted his head towards Troi inquisitively. "Is she still hostile, counselor?"

Troi concentrated on the prisoner's back. Immediately, her countenance darkened. A storm seeped into her Betazoid eyes. The features of her face wrenched with pain.

"Counselor?" Picard prompted. She gave a slight jump, broken free from her trance.

"She is suffering," Troi replied, her voice soft and sympathetic.

Picard turned his attention back to the prisoner. "Dr. Crusher is concerned about your health. She is willing to finish tending your wounds, despite your mistreatment of her. You don't have to suffer needlessly."

"No," came the flat reply. "Stay away from me, whoever you are."

Riker squared his jaw with an air of irritation. "Look," he said. "We're not your enemy, we're your rescuers. A little gratitude would be nice."

Though her back was to him, he noticed her wince. At his side, Troi mirrored her pain. He cast her a silent, questioning look. But she did not explain.

Picard cleared his throat. "You were wearing a Starfleet communicator when we found you. What is your ship called? Perhaps we can try to make contact-"

"Impossible."

"Oh? Why's that?"

Her shoulders rose as she drew in a breath. "My ship was destroyed."

Picard nodded slowly. Riker's irritation became subdued with something gentler. _She is suffering._ He drew himself close to the electrostatic barrier and crouched to her level.

"Hey. What's your name?" he asked.

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her lips curled into a silent snarl. "My name? _You_ don't know my name?"

"No." He shook his head. "There was no record of you in the Starfleet database."

Her snarl turned into a sneer. "The Starfleet database, huh?" She climbed hastily to her feet and began to pace along the barrier like a caged animal. "What sort of mind game is this anyways? What do you want from me?"

Riker stood up as well, watching her with a bewildered expression. "Mind game?"

Abruptly then, she laughed. It was a dry, mirthless laugh that unsettled the commander. "Haven One. You want the location of Haven One, don't you?"

Riker and Picard exchanged puzzled glances.

"It won't work! They kept the location a secret from us!" She laughed again. As she did so, her balance began to sway. One hand shot out, pressing against the bulkhead for strength.

"You're badly injured," Picard interjected, a note of urgency in his voice as he witnessed her descent into delirium. "Please, let us help you."

"They did not expect children to be able to withstand torture, should we be captured," she continued. "Or assimilated. So do as you will! But you will never find Haven One. Might...might as well..." She stumbled forward, wavering on the brink of consciousness. "...kill me...now." Her body crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Riker raced to the controls and punched in a code. A door-sized hole appeared in the electrostatic wall. Troi rushed in first, turning the prisoner over and pulling her onto her lap. One of her hands pressed against the young woman's cheek in a tender display of compassion.

Picard entered. He was followed by Riker, who knelt beside the counselor with an exasperated sigh. "I'm afraid we have more questions than answers now."

Troi looked up at both men. "Carmen," she said. "Her name is Carmen."

Picard's eyes widened incredulously. "How do you know that, counselor?"

"I saw things, sir. Flashes, like memories, while you were questioning her."

"And?"

She looked back down at the young woman. "I don't understand it. But I think I know who she is."


	5. A Connection

" _He was wrong about you, Carmen. I hope you know that." A familiar voice came through her combadge. Sweat stung Carmen's eyes as she leaned against the controls, swerving her fighter close to the Romulan Warbird._

" _Stop talking like that!" she fumed._

" _Like what?"_

" _Like you're saying good-bye! This isn't over. Their shields are critical-"_

" _And ours are gone. Just hear me out, okay? What happened back there-"_

 _"I said stop!" She sent a round of fire at the enemy vessel's side. Waves of the blast rippled away from where it met its mark. "He was right, okay? And anyways, they're almost done. I promise, Geordi. We'll make it out of this-"_

 _A burst of flames filled her frame of view, scalding her vision. Pieces of the Enterprise flew past her cockpit. A harrowing sound filled her ears. It took Carmen a few moments to realize that the scream was her own._

 _Then a mangled piece of wreckage hit her starboard side. The fighter flew through space, its engines knocked offline. Over and over she tumbled through the vast nothingness._

 _Carmen held onto the controls with all her strength, but her vision began to dim. She was losing consciousness. She pictured her fighter crashing on some god-forsaken planet, barely a trace left behind. The thought was almost a relief to her. Gladly then, she closed her eyes..._

Carmen woke with a start. Her head spun as if she were still hurtling through space in her doomed fighter. She tried to sit up, but found herself immobilized beneath an isotropic restraint. Carmen grimaced. She was back in sickbay.

"Good morning!" A woman with flame-colored hair stood at her bedside. Carmen threw her a scowl. "Nice to see you again, too," the doctor quipped. She held some sort of scanning device next to Carmen's head. It trilled loudly several times and Crusher nodded, satisfied with its findings. "Feeling better?"

"No."

Another woman came into their midst, one with dark hair and dark eyes. The captain had called her counselor. "Hello Beverly. I was wondering if I could speak with our guest?"

Crusher greeted her with a smile, clearly familiar with her company. "Sure, but-"

"I mean freely. Not held down like this."

Crusher's smile faded. "I don't think that's a good idea. She overpowered six of our officers last time. The captain would have a fit."

"I counted eight," Carmen muttered. Both women ignored her impertinence.

"Please. I'm asking you to trust me," the dark-haired one continued.

Crusher sighed resignedly. "I hope you know what you're doing." She pushed a few buttons on the side of the isotropic restraint and it began to slide back. "Jean Luc will be here shortly to see the test results. I'm about to go fetch them. Please...be careful."

Carmen sat up, regarding her visitor suspiciously. She waited until the doctor had withdrawn before speaking.

"Are you always this naive?" _Fight_ , she told herself. _Flee. Do something._ But there was something inexplicably soothing about this woman's presence, something that made her want to hear what she had to say.

The counselor sat down beside her, letting her legs swing over the edge of the bed. "I like to think the best of people. Besides, you will not hurt me. I sense no malice."

Carmen smiled in a sneering sort of way. "You are an empath, then?"

"Yes," she admitted. "You as well?"

Carmen's nostrils flared with quiet indignation. "What makes you say that?"

"You are part Betazoid. Like me. There is something different about other empaths; some sort of connection."

Carmen's jaw clenched and unclenched. She didn't like it when people made assumptions about her. Especially correct ones. "I am part Betazoid, yes. But I am not an empath. Not anymore."

"What do you mean 'not anymore?' I wasn't aware one could lose such abilities."

"I didn't lose them. Not exactly. I just buried them."

The counselor balked. "Why would you ever want to do that?"

"Because empathy is a disservice to a warrior. One must wear armor on the battlefield." Her answer sounded like part of a tired, memorized speech, even to her own ears.

"That is what you are then, a warrior?"

"Yes."

The counselor nodded. "Well we are peaceful explorers, Carmen. No one will hurt you here."

The young woman froze. "How-how did you know my name?"

"I saw things back there. In the brig."

"What sort of things?" She inched away from the counselor, narrowing her eyes warily.

"Memories, I think. And I heard him call you Carmen."

"Heard _who?_ I don't understand, what are you talking about?" Carmen pushed herself off the bed, feeling far too uncomfortable to remain seated.

"It's called baseball, isn't it? What I saw when Will was speaking to you in the brig?"

Carmen's pulse raced. She felt suddenly exposed, vulnerable. A memory drifted back to mind. It was the same one she had thought of when she first heard his voice coming from the other side of the electrostatic wall.

 _Dusty sunlight floated around them. Manufactured as it was, the young girl always found it calming and pleasant. There was a wooden crack and then her eyes followed a small, white ball as it flew to the virtual outfield._

" _How come you always manage to hit those curveballs, Carmen?" He laughed and rubbed his knuckles against her scalp, tousling her ebony hair._

" _Hey!" she protested, shoving his hand away. But a grin shone across her face to hear the pride in his voice._

" _Well," he said. "You're just a chip off the old block, I guess!"_

Carmen opened her eyes. She didn't even remember closing them. The counselor was watching her, a sad smile dancing across her lips. "You're his daughter, aren't you?"

A painful anger rose in Carmen's chest. She hissed through clenched teeth. "My father died when I was nine. That man I saw in the brig-that can't be him. _None_ of this can be real."

"No, he isn't your father. Not exactly. See, our Will doesn't have any children."

"What do you mean _your_ Will?" Carmen's head was spinning faster than ever.

"Something happened when you crashed," the counselor explained. "Something we have never encountered before. We believe you are...we believe that you…" She fumbled for the right words, then took a deep breath and began again. "Somehow, you must have crossed over to us."

"Crossed over? Into what? _From_ what?"

"Into our universe. From...from a parallel one. It's the only explanation. Our people have been discussing this for hours, ever since we brought you back to sickbay and I told the captain about my visions."

"What?!" Carmen sprang back as if from a fight. "No! This is all a lie!"

"Listen to me with your Betazoid blood! Then you will know for yourself! There is no deception. There is no battlefield. Just _listen_."

"I told you, I can't do that anymore!" Carmen turned her back on the counselor and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders, and her world, shook with every breath.

Then a humble, imploring plea reached her ears. "Please, Carmen. Listen to me."

Carmen knew she had to. It was the only way to know for sure. She forced her breathing to slow and envisioned a door in her mind, a door that had been locked long ago. Slowly, she approached this door.

"That's it! You're trying!" The door opened. A warm feeling of encouragement flooded her mind, bringing with it a river of memories. But they were not her own. They were of a peaceful Enterprise, peaceful missions, and peaceful races. She saw faces that she knew-her father, Picard, Worf, Geordi-alive and well and together.

"How...how did you do that?" She turned around to face the counselor.

"I don't know. But I told you-we seem to have a connection." She smiled and rose. One hand lifted, reaching for Carmen's own.

She shied away. "Those things I saw...they were real?" Even as she asked, she knew the answer. She could feel sincerity exuding from the woman's outstretched hand.

"Yes. It appears our universes turned out quite differently, didn't they?"

"Tell me," Carmen said, her voice straining with sudden urgency. "What happened to Earth? Is it still inhabited?"

"It is."

The news shook her deeply. She leaned back against the wall and let herself slide to the floor. "I never got a chance to see it for myself. It was destroyed before my father could take me there."

"Destroyed? How?"

Carmen opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted. "What is the meaning of this?" Both women jumped at the sound of the captain's voice. They turned their heads to find Picard and Riker standing in the threshold. A row of security officers fanned out behind them.

Carmen leapt to her feet, her instincts taking over. The officers drew their phasers. She crouched, poised and ready.

"No-please!" The counselor moved between her and the men. "There is no need for this!"

"Why is she not restrained?" Picard demanded.

"So we could have a civil conversation," the counselor retorted. "It's alright, captain. I told her everything."

Picard chanced a look at the young woman, whose eyes darted wildly between him and the security officers. He blew out a breath. "Then there is something you should know-both of you. We just finished going over the lab results with Dr. Crusher."

"Lab results?" Carmen echoed.

The counselor sent her an apologetic smile. "It was the only way we could prove your identity. See, we asked Beverly to run your DNA against Will's."

Carmen's eyes shifted to the commander. His face confirmed their findings. He gazed back at her with newfound pity and a soft sort of curiosity.

"There is something else," Picard added.

Riker drew in a deep breath, turning his attention to the counselor. "The doctor ran another test, Deanna."

It was Carmen's first time hearing someone address the woman by name. It hit her like a punch in the gut. The counselor stared at her quizzically, sensing her pain. "Carmen? What's the matter?"

" _Your name is Deanna?_ " Her fists clenched tightly. Her muscles tensed like springs. The revelation had stoked something ugly inside of her.

"Carmen, don't!" she shouted. But the words had barely left her mouth when the young woman launched herself towards the officers. The first was knocked to the floor before he could even fire his phaser. The next two did not last much longer.

"Stop this!" Riker bellowed. He grabbed Carmen around the waist and pulled her away from the skirmish. She thrashed violently in his hold, clawing at his arms and kicking at his legs to get free. He threw her to the ground then pinned her down with one of his boots between her shoulder blades and one of her own arms against her back. "I said _stop_!"

"Get me off of this wretched ship!" she snarled, still struggling with every ounce of her strength. "You hear me? I want off!"

The doctor appeared with a hypospray. She touched it to the side of Carmen's neck. One hiss and the world around her went black.


	6. Choices

"What was _that_ about?" Riker exclaimed, stepping away from Carmen's inert body. Troi bent over to help one of the battered guards to his feet. She looked up with a sheepish, apologetic smile.

"I don't know. Everything was fine at first. Then it's like something...some kind of rage...came over her. What were you about to tell me, anyways? Something about a second test?"

"That was all my idea, I'm afraid." Dr. Crusher squatted beside Carmen's first victim, who was just rousing awake again. "I was going off of a few assumptions."

"What kind of assumptions?"

"Well, she's part Betazoid. And if William Riker was her father, then…"

Troi's hand flew to her chest. "Beverly, are you saying that…? Am I…?"

"Her mother, yes."

Troi gaped at the floor, speechless. Riker came over and touched her gently on the arm.

"Captain," she said at long last. "What will become of her?"

"For now, she will remain in sickbay on forced bedrest. Her injuries from the crash were extensive."

"And when she has recovered?"

Picard clasped his hands together. His face clouded in thought. "I don't know. But she is unfit to be around the crew."

"She is traumatized, sir. She needs help. We can't just keep her pinned to some cot-"

"Deanna!" Riker interjected. "Look, I know you have good intentions. But you saw what happened here. She's a loose cannon!"

"Agreed," Picard pitched in. "Interacting with her is too dangerous. I will make contact with the council, see if they can advise us on a course of action. There isn't exactly a precedence for this."

"I just want to speak with her," Troi insisted. "Please, captain. Let me try and reach her."

Picard sighed, mulling over the counselor's proposal. "Very well. But her restraints are not to be removed without my direct orders, understood?"

Troi nodded earnestly. "Yes, sir."

Riker didn't look too happy about the captain's decision. "We don't know what the council will decide, Deanna. Don't get in too deep," he warned, casting her a stern look. "She is a stranger, no matter what those tests say. And she has proven herself brash. Reckless. Cocky."

Troi's mouth curved into an impish sort of smile. "I wonder where she gets that from."

* * *

Several days later, Riker made his way to Ten Forward in need of some unwinding. And a Samarian Sunset. He walked in to find a familiar face sitting at the bar. Troi sulked over a hot fudge sundae, the spoon resting idle in one hand.

"Uh-oh," he said, taking the seat next to her. "Chocolate and ice cream. I know what that means. What happened?"

A smile flickered briefly across her face. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't tell me what to do," he shot back. She made a face at him, but her sullen exterior broke with a laugh.

"Well, if you must know," she relented. "It's Carmen."

Guinan appeared with a glass of clear liquid. "For you, commander."

"Guinan. My hero!" He accepted the drink with a grateful nod and then held it out towards the counselor. "Go ahead. I know you like this part."

Her smile widened. She reached out and tapped the rim of the glass. They both looked on, mesmerized, as swirls of passionate gold and fiery orange danced within the liquid. The colors melded together like lovers and the result was something new-a beautiful culmination of passion and ferocity that was neither gold nor orange anymore.

Riker set the drink back down on the bar. "I never get tired of that," he said with a chuckle. "Now, what were you saying? About Carmen?"

Troi shoveled some ice cream onto her spoon, remembering her dejectedness. "She won't talk to me. Won't even look at me. She has shut me out completely."

Riker placed his hand over hers. "Deanna, this case is...it's close to home. For both of us. I know you want something to be there with her, but…" He huffed out a breath. "Look, her Enterprise was very different from ours. Maybe we were different, too, you know? Maybe we shouldn't look for a connection that isn't there."

"But it _is_ there. I'm not imagining it. And when she looks at you-Will, she misses her father terribly. I get the feeling he was a good man. Which means he couldn't have been _that_ different from you."

Riker sent her a flattered grin. "Well, it isn't up to us anyways; she'll be the council's problem soon enough."

Troi nodded and squeezed his hand tightly. "Do you ever….you know...wonder? What it might've been like?"

The commander's grin wilted. He cleared his throat and shrugged. "Sure. But I try not to dwell on that stuff. We've made our choices. And I think both of us have done tremendously well for ourselves."

She nodded again, but said nothing.

"Don't you agree?" he added, trying to ignore the hint of guilt creeping up his conscience.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes of course."

A page from Picard came through his combadge just then. It was the sound of mercy to the commander's ears. "Number One, can I see you in my ready room?"

"Be right there, sir."

He squeezed her hand good-bye and made for the exit, leaving his drink half-finished at the bar. He couldn't help but feel the conversation was only half-finished as well. But duty came first-just as it always had.


	7. A Good-Bye Party

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Riker said upon entering the captain's ready room. He found Picard sitting behind the desk, chair leaned back and fingers interlaced over his stomach.

"I've heard back from the council," Picard replied.

Riker's throat tightened. He had not expected to feel this nervous about their decision. In fact, he had expected to feel relieved. "And?" he prompted.

"They wish to question her. Find out about her training, her enemies. They believe we might be able to glean something useful from her tragic experiences."

"Think she'll talk to the council?"

"No. Not a chance."

Riker sank into a chair opposite the captain. "Then what?"

Leaning forward to rest his hands on the desk, Picard took a few moments to answer. "The council has...methods."

Riker's face hardened with anger. "Methods, sir?"

"Admiral Leyton has assured me they will be humane. But it would still be in her best interest to cooperate. You must try to convince her of that."

"Me? Why me?"

"You and Worf will be accompanying her to council headquarters via shuttle. We are too far from Earth to divert the entire Enterprise."

Riker wrestled with the notion. "Sir, I'm not sure if...if I'm the most objective party for this task."

"She seems receptive to you. Besides, the council will ensure that this is handled objectively."

"Yes, but-"

"Perhaps a little _too_ objectively." Picard smiled then, fixing his eyes on the commander as he waited for him to catch his drift.

"Sir?"

"We both know Carmen is not going to do herself any favors. But if she _is_ the daughter of William T. Riker, then, well, she deserves a capable and...slightly biased...advocate on her side."

Riker slowly smiled back. "Yes, sir."

* * *

"Dr. Crusher is going to let you up. When she does, you will stand facing away from me with your hands behind your back. Is that understood?" Picard addressed the young woman. Her eyes swiveled towards him. They looked clear and alert. Her once sunken cheeks now had color and roundness to them. Carmen's recovery had gone well and, surprisingly, without further incident.

"Maybe," she quipped, still flippant as ever.

"You can walk to the shuttlecraft on your own, or we can sedate you first. What will it be?" Picard asked, unruffled.

"Walking's fine."

The isometric restraint retracted and Carmen took her time sitting up, pausing to stretch her stiff neck. She eyed the host of security personnel accompanying Picard. A few of them shifted nervously.

"A good-bye party? For me?" Her lips curled back in a devious smirk.

Then came another voice. "On your feet. Now."

Her smirk fled as Riker stepped into their midst. She begrudgingly obeyed, hoisting herself off the cot and turning around.

Picard nodded to the nearest officer. He swallowed hard and then walked towards her with slow, timid steps. Carmen's head whipped to the side at the sound of his approach. Immediately, his hand flew to his phaser.

"Just cuff me already, would you?" Carmen taunted.

Picard pursed his lips. "A little humility goes a long way, young lady. It would be wise of you to remember that when you are before the council."

"The council? I am to see the council?"

Picard ignored her and turned to the commander. "She is your charge now, Number One."

They marched to the shuttle bay absent of the captain. Worf was there, waiting beside a readied craft. "We have it from here," he assured the officer holding Carmen's arm. The ensign nodded and withdrew with the rest of the security team.

Once they were gone, Carmen looked up at the commander. "Are we really going to see the council?"

"Yes."

"So you're passing me off, then?"

Riker prodded her towards the shuttle gangway. "I thought you didn't want to stay on the Enterprise?"

"That's true. But I cannot stand those...those _bihnuch_."

Worf's eyes widened at her use of Klingon profanity. Riker stifled a grin. "Well, they aren't my favorite people, either. But they _are_ our leaders."

"They are politicians," she spat. "And as politicians, they will always choose power over people. Be careful where you put your faith."

Worf looked as though he were considering her words carefully. But Riker shrugged and continued urging her onto the craft. He attached her cuffs to a short loop and chain in the aft portion. Then he sat in the pilot's seat and began making final preparations for their flight.

"Settle in," he called. "It's going to be a long, boring trip. Earth is pretty far from our current location, so it's going to be just us three for awhile. And Worf isn't much of a talker."

"Earth?" Carmen repeated. "You're...you're taking me to Earth?"

"Yeah, haven't you been?"

She sank back against her seat. "No."

That small, single word was weighted down with something that weighed heavily on Riker's heart, too. "Well, that's where the council convenes. So that's where we're going," he said, trying to brush it off.

"Is the city called San-what is it, San Frisco?"

"San Francisco," he corrected, smiling inwardly. It was strange, he realized, to see her fumble with something. Young as she was, she seemed to carry the experience-and burden-of many years upon her shoulders. "Did the Federation meet there in your universe as well?"

"Not since I was seven. They moved their headquarters off-planet shortly after the war began. In secret, of course."

"Why move?"

"Because they wanted to save themselves."

Riker's hand paused, hovering above a switch. He turned his head to the side without looking at her. "I see."

She breathed out a sigh that sounded more like a snarl. "Look, I think Worf has the right idea. Talking is overrated. Now let's get on with this long and boring flight."


	8. When Plans Change

" _Do you realize what you are asking of me?"_

 _Carmen pressed her ear tightly against the door. The desperation in Picard's voice made her heart thump._

 _He continued: "If I am complicit, then I am no better than the Borg." The child flinched at the sound of that name, the name of her father's murderers._

" _Oh?" came Admiral Leyton's voice. "How is that?"_

" _I would be handing over innocent souls so that you can turn them into some kind of...of...killing machines!"_

" _The Federation needs them. We are at war, captain. Or haven't you noticed? And we are running out of soldiers to send."_

" _They are not soldiers! You would be sending them to their deaths!"_

" _They will receive one year of specialized training-"_

" _They are CHILDREN!"_

 _A stiff silence ensued. The admiral was first to break it. "If you will not comply, then I will have you court martialed. And the children will come with me anyways. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The choice is yours, Picard."_

" _And what about them? What about their choice?" The captain sounded as if he were wavering on the verge of tears. Carmen hated the admiral for it. "Many of them have lost their parents already. Please...don't take them from the only home, the only comfort, they have ever known. It will destroy them. Even if they survive, it will destroy them."_

 _But Leyton was not moved. "You have one hour to decide. The easy way or the hard way."_

 _Footsteps approached the door where Carmen was eavesdropping. She darted away, ducking behind a nearby corner. Peeking cautiously around the edge, she saw Admiral Leyton pause in the threshold to straighten his uniform. She loathed the despicable calmness that emanated from the man._

 _Leyton disappeared down the long length of the hall. Only then did Carmen creep forward and peer into the ready room. Picard hunched over his desk, gripping the edge as if to keep from falling. Tears glinted off his eyes in the dim light of the lamp._ _But just below the surface, a storm of emotions brewed. Carmen had never sensed such violent things from the captain before, not even after her father's death three years ago. At the funeral he had remained strong and stoic, a wall for her to lean against. She could still remember the feeling of his hand on her shoulder, gentle as a falling leaf but with the weight of all the compassion in the world._

" _Captain?" she called, her voice barely more than whisper. She tried again, louder. "Captain?"_

 _He looked up, surprised. "Carmen? What are you doing here?" She bounded forward and threw her arms around him. He began to pull away, but she gripped him even tighter. So, relenting to the embrace, he stood still until her arms loosened of their own accord._

" _What's the matter?" he asked finally._

" _What did he mean? Where is he sending us?"_

 _Picard's jawline drew taut. "You were listening?"_

 _She withdrew a guilty step and cast her face to the floor. "Yes."_

" _Carmen, you know better than that. You cannot just...you...come here." He drew her back to him, holding her tightly this time. For awhile they remained thus, each heart breaking in the silence. At long last, Picard sighed and crouched down to her level._

 _"Every time I look at you, I see your father. His eyes. His strength." A sad smile tugged at his lips. "Your parents...they were some of the finest officers Starfleet ever had. These were not the plans they had for you, but you will make them proud. I know you will."_

" _I don't want to leave," she blurted out. She wiped hurriedly at her face, ashamed of the tears gathering there._

" _It's alright. Hey, hey, look at me." He lifted her chin to force her gaze. "I will do all in my power to get you assigned to the Enterprise. You will return one day, and that's a promise. You belong here."_

Carmen's eyes flew open. She sat up, disoriented. Was that...music? Smooth, sultry chords from a double bass flirted with her ears. Notes from a piano rose and fell like playful stairs. A woman's voice crooned, the familiar words wrapping around her like a blanket. It was her father's favorite song.

"No more blues, I'm going back home

No, no more blues, I promise no more to roam

Home is where the heart is

The funny part is my heart's been right there all along."

And then there he was, standing in front of her. "You're awake! How about some breakfast?" He pulled down a table from the wall and set a glass of orange juice on top. As she reached for it, something jerked her wrists back. Cuffs.

Then Carmen remembered. No, the man before her was not her father. He just looked like him, with the same lopsided smile and the same taste for jazz. "Oh," he said when the chain snapped taut. "You'll need your hands to eat, I suppose."

"Forget about it," she snarled. "I'm not hungry. And can you turn off that racket?"

Riker gaped, taken aback by her sudden surliness. "Computer, that's enough music," he acquiesced.

The music stopped. Stifling silence filled its place. Riker retrieved two bowls of oatmeal from a replicator tray and placed them on the little table.

"Not a morning person, eh?" he said, sitting down across from her.

She threw him a glare. "Are we there yet? I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Riker glossed over her petulance and leaned forward to undo her cuffs.

"I said forget about it!" she snapped, pulling away from him.

He placed his hands back down on the table and clenched his jaw. "Look," he said. "We need to have a little talk."

"No we don't."

"You're going to be in front of the council soon. Acting like this is only going to make things worse for you."

"Worse?" she scoffed. "They can hardly be worse."

One of his brows arched. "That's a pretty poor attitude. You've been rescued, you've been healed, and if you'd eat your oatmeal, you'd be fed."

"You think I should be thankful for what happened to me?"

"A little, yeah," he retorted. She stared at him hard, letting the oatmeal and the distance grow cold between them. Riker shook his head with an air of exasperation. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish, Carmen? I know you've been through a lot, but being difficult-"

"You know? You _know_?" Her defiance flared dangerously. "No, commander, you _don't_ know! You don't know anything about me!" She struck at the bowl of oatmeal, splattering it across the table and wall. Then she sank back once more, back from the brink of her rage. "I hate oatmeal, by the way. Always have."

Riker's jaw worked for words, but none came out. Carmen turned her head, waiting to hear him storm away. But he didn't. When she ventured to look at him once more, his gaze had softened.

"So that's what it is," he said, his voice soft as well.

Just as she opened her mouth to reply, a shrill alarm rang through the shuttlecraft.

"Worf! What is it? What's going on?" Riker shouted, racing to the front.

"A battlecruiser just decloaked off the port side, sir."

"Begin evasive maneuvers-"

"No, sir. We're locked in their tractor beam."

"Open hailing frequencies!"

"I have already tried, sir. No response."

Riker stared at the intimidating hulk of a ship before them. Its wings curved downward like a falcon swooping upon a helpless hare.

Carmen recognized it right away. "A Bird-of-Prey..."

"I do not like this," Worf growled. "It reeks of trouble."

"What are they doing?" Carmen demanded. "Why are Klingons abducting a Federation vessel?" She pulled at her cuffs, suddenly wishing she had let the commander undo them.

"That's a good question," Riker mused. "And I have a feeling we are about to find out."

* * *

 **A/N: What do you think so far? What are your thoughts on Carmen? By the way, there's a reason her name is Carmen. And the answer to that is in this chapter! It will be addressed plainly in another few chapters as well.**

 **We just found out we get the keys to our new place on Thursday, so I might be absent a few days. Sorry to leave you on such a cliffhanger, lol! But don't worry, I'll be back ASAP.**

 **In the meantime, is there anything/anybody you are hoping to see? Any suggestions? Thanks so much to everyone who has followed/read/commented. You guys are the wind in my sails! Or rather, the warp core to my engines? Haha**


	9. A Warm Welcome

**A/N: So tomorrow is moving day for me! And then internet at the new place will be set up next week. So I finished off this chapter to give you guys something until then (and because I can't stop writing, even when I have adult responsibilities I should be tending to haha). Thanks so much for all the interest and feedback! I hope you guys are enjoying this. I know I am! :-)**

 **In response to the latest comments...**

 **WIWJ: Haha you are a Riker-Troi fan, I take it? Me, too! Don't worry, they will get more moments! We will definitely be seeing more of Deanna! :-)**

 **Arya-Thanks so much! I hope you continue to like it!**

 **Starlite22-The council is sort of the government for the Federation, with representatives from different races. They create the legislature and laws regarding different issues Starfleet encounters. Let me know if you have any other questions!**

* * *

"Free me! You have to free me!" Carmen fought against the cuffs with all her might, pulling until the metal dug into her flesh. "Let me fight! I can help you!"

Riker continued hailing the Bird-of-Prey, but to no avail. "No. I'm still hoping we won't have to fight."

"Won't have to fight? Do you know anything about Klingons?"

Worf swiveled in his chair. "What do _you_ know about Klingons?"

She threw him an offended scowl. "I worked on one of those battle cruisers for six years! That's six more than you, am I right?" Worf growled and turned his back on her.

"Just let me handle this, okay?" Riker snapped.

"What are you going to do, lecture them to death?"

"I'm not getting into this with you right now! Worf, set your phaser to stun."

Darkness swallowed the shuttle as it passed through the ominous gates of the docking bay. Riker moved stealthily towards the back, standing between Carmen and the door with his weapon drawn. After coming to a halt, all three passengers waited in tense, restless silence for what would come next.

Suddenly a blast from outside tore a hole through the hatch. It was wrenched off its hinges and then a host of armed Klingons boarded, filling the craft with their pungent scent.

"We are Starfleet officers, and you are in breach of protocol! Drop your weapons now!" Riker ordered.

The leading Klingon eyed him up and down. "Starfleet officers...yes, we know." He lurched towards the commander, malice gleaming in his eyes. Riker fired without flinching. His enemy fell to the floor, heavy as a tree. But another Klingon soon took his place. And then another, and another. They surged onto the shuttle like a merciless tide, overtaking the commander and (after an admirable struggle) Worf as well.

"How dare you!" Carmen shouted, thrashing against her restraints. A Klingon that was shorter than the rest paused with his fist raised above a bloodied Riker.

"What is this?" he mused, sauntering towards the young woman. Carmen flattened herself against the wall, bristling with anger.

"No! Leave her out of this!" Riker cried. He was struck across the face for his outburst and then dragged violently away.

"Free my hands," Carmen snarled. "So that I might kill you with them!" She spat at the Klingon's feet.

He lashed out, grabbing a fistful of raven hair and yanking her head back. "You talk like a warrior, but you look like a child!" Raucous laughter ripped from his throat.

"And you look like a piece of _baktag_."

His laughter stopped. Fury flared behind his eyes. The fist that held her hair tightened. Next thing she knew, her face was being slammed into the wall. Everything around Carmen swam in a nauseating blur. Warm blood gushed from her nose. "Throw them in the brig," she heard him order the remaining Klingons. "And then destroy the shuttle."


	10. A Powerful Ally

**A/N: Phew, okay, we are moved in to the new house! Still busy painting and fixing stuff, but I finally have time to pick up my writing again! I hope you are enjoying this unfortunate turn of events for our characters. Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading! :-)**

* * *

As Riker was dragged towards the brig, he found himself oddly relieved to hear Carmen's vicious protests following not too far behind. Craning his neck, he caught a glimpse of the young woman. Fresh blood streamed down her face, staining the front of her uniform. They had beaten her into compliance, but at least they had left her alive.

While she and Worf continued to protest their treatment, Riker took note of the cruiser's condition. It appeared to have taken recent, heavy damage. Weapon fire scored the bulkheads. Doors bent outward as if they had been forced open. And there was no sign of a crew other than the host of Klingons accompanying them.

They made their way through the belly of the ship before entering a dimly lit brig. Riker, Worf, and Carmen were thrown into rudimentary cells separated by rows of metal bars. Carmen flung herself against the gate just as it swung closed, hurling all manner of insults and slurs that seemed to have little effect on their captors but rendered Worf speechless.

"Carmen!" the commander shouted, trying to get her attention. Carmen, they're gone!" The last Klingon withdrew, slamming the door behind him. "We'll find a way out of this, don't worry. When we don't reach the council-"

"We don't have that much time!" She cut him off. "We'll be dead before the Enterprise even knows something went wrong."

"If they wanted us dead, we wouldn't be sitting in this brig."

"You're the one who's sitting! And I'm not waiting around to be rescued. _Qastah nuq jay!_ " She shook the bars violently.

"We need to think clearly, that's all. Think of a plan."

"No, we need to _act_!" She paced along the perimeter of her cell, testing each side for any weaknesses.

"Hey, you said you spent six years on one of these ships, didn't you?" Riker tried. "How well do you know the systems?"

"It doesn't matter; we can't do anything from in here. We have to-we have to get _out_!" She started ramming the gate with her shoulder, roaring with effort and frustration.

"Carmen, stop this! That's an order!" Riker climbed to his feet and reached one long arm through the bars separating their cells. He caught hold of her sleeve and yanked her back towards him. "That gate isn't budging! You'll only hurt yourself!"

"What do you care?" she snarled. "I won't be your problem much longer, anyways. Whether or not we get out of here." She jerked her arm away and retreated to the far corner of her cell to sulk.

The side of Riker's jaw pulsed several times. "Look," he finally said. "We're in this together, like it or not. Now let's think. Did you notice anything strange about the ship as they were bringing us here?"

Worf cleared his throat. "It looked to me like there had been a battle of some kind."

"Yes," Riker concurred. "What do you make of it, Worf?"

The Klingon's eyes clouded in deep thought. "It is too early to tell, sir."

Riker turned his attention back to the sullen young woman. "And you, Carmen? What do you think?"

She scowled at him and then kicked the back wall of her cell.

"Come on. You must know something that can help us. What were you doing on a Bird-of-Prey for six years anyways?"

Her face scrunched together, thoroughly indignant. "It was my first assignment!"

"First assign-? That can't be." Riker shook his head. "You're not even old enough to have graduated from the Academy!"

"I didn't _go_ to the Academy."

"But then-how did you enlist?"

She folded her arms across her chest and huffed out a snarl. "I didn't enlist. I was drafted."

Riker regarded the young woman anew. Carmen's bitterness that had hitherto only frustrated him seemed suddenly more forgivable. "Carmen...how old were you?"

She looked away before answering. "Twelve, when the council came for me."

Something sharp pricked at the commander's heart. Worf's face hardened with quiet, noble anger. "They sent a little girl to work on a Bird-of-Prey?"

She nodded and drew in a defensive breath. "Lucky thing, too. Klingons fared much better than humans in war. They proved our most powerful ally. Every day, they kept me safe. Every battle, they had my back." A proud smile curved one side of her mouth. "They even had a special name for me. _Qa'Hom_."

"Qa'Hom?" Riker turned to Worf questioningly.

"A small rodent from the home world," Worf explained. "I have never heard someone be called that in an affectionate manner, though."

"Yeah well, you should hear the things I called _them_."

Riker burst out laughing. Even Worf cracked an approving grin. Carmen beamed at them both, delightedly smug. For a few fleeting moments, the commander could see Deanna in the lines of her smile. For a few fleeting moments, the distance between them did not seem so far.

Suddenly the brig door flew open. Several guards barged in, their dark, shifty eyes roving from prisoner to prisoner. A smaller Klingon shouldered his way past them. Carmen recognized him as the one who had addressed her on the shuttle.

"What do you want with us?" Riker demanded.

The Klingon ignored him and turned to Worf instead. "You-" He jabbed a finger in his direction.

"Leave him alone!" Carmen shouted, hurling herself against the bars. "If you so much as lay one finger on him-"

"Silence!" A guard barked. He lashed a weapon across her bars. She recoiled briefly, then let loose a tirade of threats and profanity that scorched even Riker's ears.

"Get her under control!" their leader growled. The guard opened her cell door and was immediately buried beneath an angry avalanche. He and Carmen crashed to the ground together. She struck his head repeatedly and then, while he was dazed, went for his weapon.

But two more guards were upon her before she succeeded. One held back her arms while the other punished her for the brazen attempt.

"Stop it!" Riker cried, grabbing hold of the bars and shaking them desperately. "Leave her alone!"

Another blow. And another. Carmen's head slumped towards the ground between punches.

"You have my attention! Now stop this!" Worf fumed.

A devious smile twisted the Klingon leader's lips. "Very well." He waved to the guards, who obediently stepped away. Carmen sank to the floor in a bloody, groaning mess. Meanwhile, the leader drew himself close to Worf's gate. Something wild and savage glimmered in his eyes. "Listen to me carefully, fellow Klingon," he said. "For I am here to liberate you."


	11. Mutiny

Carmen clung to consciousness on the brig floor. As she wove in and out, reality started mingling with memories. Instead of lying at the guard's feet in a puddle of her own blood, she was making her way through a maze of red and black halls on a different Bird-of-Prey. The air reeked of exhaust as she picked up the pace, hurrying towards an important meeting...

 _Already she was running late. Normally, this would not have flustered her so. But today there was too much at stake. Up ahead, an officer was coming down the same hall. She recognized Vullek's distinct gait. He was the captain's nephew, and had a way of getting beneath the young woman's skin. Upon seeing Carmen, he stepped into the middle of the path._

 _She stopped a few feet short of him, fists planted on her hips. "Well? Are you going to move, or shall I make you?"_

" _On your way to see the admiral?" he asked, ignoring her threat._

" _Yes. And you are making me late."_

" _I know you are not overly fond of the man. Would you...perhaps...like me to accompany you?"_

 _Carmen found herself taken aback by the unwonted gentleness in the Klingon's voice. Her hands slid down to her sides._

" _No. I can handle this alone."_

 _He smiled ruefully. "I should have known you would say that. You always say that."_

 _Her lips twitched, wanting to grimace. "I am still late, Vullek. And you are still in my way."_

 _He sighed heavily. "I will miss you, Qa'Hom. Many of us will."_

 _Something bittersweet churned in her chest. "I...I will miss you, too," she mumbled. It surprised her, how much she meant it._

 _Vullek moved aside. She took a single step, then hesitated. "Hey," she prompted. "Think I will be allowed in Sto'Vo'Kor someday? Or is that only for Klingon souls?"_

 _A smile spread across his face. "It is only for Klingons. But you are one of the finest Klingon warriors I have ever met. Albeit the ugliest."_

 _She took a swing at him. He dodged it and then put her in a headlock, a chuckle rumbling from his throat. "Let me go!" she demanded, trying hard not to spoil her defiance with a laugh. "Before I send you to Sto'Vo'Kor myself!"_

* * *

 _Carmen paused in the threshold. A single man occupied the briefing room. He had a peppered beard and a garishly decorated Starfleet garb. The very sight of him stoked old, angry flames in the young woman's heart. She pictured Picard's eyes shining in the lamplight with tears of defeat._

" _Ensign Riker!" The man looked up and flashed her a cloying smile. "Come in, come in."_

" _Admiral Leyton." She hailed him with a polite nod and then took the seat across from him. "Sorry I am late. I...I uh...wanted to thank-you. For finally giving me this opportunity."_

 _He cocked his head to the side. "Finally?"_

" _Yes, sir. This was my seventh time applying for the transfer."_

" _Ah." His brows knit together. "Are you not satisfied here?"_

" _That's not it." Beneath the table, her hands balled into fists. Of course he wouldn't remember. "It's just that...I grew up on the Enterprise. I have been keen to return."_

" _Ah, yes, that's right!" Leyton nodded vigorously. "Didn't your father serve as well? What was his name again...William? William Riker?"_

" _Yes." Carmen despised the way her father's name sounded in his mouth._

" _Well, I have been going over your record," he said, tapping a screen that lay on the table before him. "And you are a shining example of the draft's success."_

" _Success?" she repeated. The flames rose higher in her chest. "Do you know how many of your child-soldiers have been slaughtered before my eyes, admiral?" She trembled with the restraint that it took not to reach across the table and strangle him._

" _We all appreciate the sacrifices that have had to be made. But Haven One is secure, and plans for Haven Two are underway. Thanks to people like you, of course." She remained silent and aloof. "Anyway," he continued. "The Enterprise will be here soon to pick you up. However...there is something that needs to be discussed first. A stipulation, if you will."_

 _Her stomach dropped. "A what?" She leaned over the table, almost as if she were poising herself to leap at him. He held up his palms and flashed her another simpering smile._

" _Maybe stipulation is too strong of a word. Think of it as...as an opportunity. Am I correct that your father was second in command?"_

 _She nodded, seething with anger._

" _Well, how would you like to follow in his footsteps?"_

 _Her rage dissipated, replaced by shock. She could only blink back at him, utterly speechless. Leyton's smile widened._

" _I thought you might like the idea." His settled deeper into his seat._

" _You mean-you mean second in command of the Enterprise?" she stuttered._

" _Yes."_

" _To serve alongside Captain Picard?"_

" _No."_

" _My father always-wait, what?"_

" _Not Picard." Leyton held her gaze unflinchingly. In the ugly red light of the overhead lamps, his skin looked ashen as a corpse. So did his expression. "See, Picard is...he is a relic of the past. He has been reluctant to adjust. And the council is tired of fighting him at every turn."_

" _What will you do then? Relieve him of duty?"_

" _No, no." Leyton laughed, straightening the lapels of his garb in a lackadaisical fashion. "Well...not me personally."_

 _Carmen pushed away from the table and stood up. "What exactly is this stipulation, admiral?"_

 _Leyton stood up as well. His demeanor shifted to something much more serious, much more menacing. "Commander Wharton has informed me that Picard is keeping a number of Romulans in his brig."_

" _Romulans? Why?"_

" _I don't know the whole story. And frankly, I don't care. But I am ordering you to neutralize them."_

" _You would have me go behind my captain's back?"_

" _He will not be captain much longer. Commander Wharton will take his place. And I want you to ensure that the process goes as...smoothly...as possible."_

 _Carmen's head spun. Suddenly, it felt as if the floor were spinning, too. She bent over the table onto her palms. "I...I cannot do this…"_

 _Leyton clicked his tongue. "With a record like yours, surely a mission like this would not disturb you. But if you are not up to the task, then I will find someone else to help Wharton lead the Enterprise."_

" _What you are speaking of is mutiny!" she cried. "Mutiny against the man that my father died to protect!"_

 _Leyton gathered his things together calmly. "It's funny, you know. That you should defend him."_

" _Why is that?" she growled._

" _Ensign Riker, it was not the council who kept rejecting your petition to transfer. It was Picard."_


	12. Their Chains

**A/N: Shoutout to my new followers! Thanks so much for your interest! I hope you like the twists and turns so far. Let me know if there's anything you're hoping for in particular. Enjoy this next chapter! :-)**

* * *

"Carmen...Carmen, say something!" The young woman's eyes cracked open and tried to focus on her surroundings. A pair of legs stood near her head, clad in armor. Their owner, a Klingon guard, growled a curt warning as she stirred awake. "I'm over here, Carmen. Can you hear me?" came the familiar voice again.

She slid her legs beneath her and sat up with a groan, fighting the urge to call out for her father. "Commander?"

Riker gave a sigh of relief. "Good, you're alright. Just...just lay low." His gaze shifted to something behind them. It was then Carmen noticed two other voices coming from that direction.

"I have no quarrel with the Federation! It would be dishonorable of me to turn my back on them!" Worf stood in his cell, glowering fiercely at a smaller Klingon. Carmen's bearings returned hot and swift as the winds that fuel a wildfire.

"You would let their promise of peace rot your warrior heart? Tell me, brother, why does it even beat?"

Worf scoffed. "You are a fool. A war monger."

"And you are a traitor to your race! They have taught you to deny what burns in your blood; they have tamed you! That uniform you wear is nothing but chains!" The renegade glared at Worf's Starfleet markings with disdain.

"It is _your_ prison I am standing in," Worf retorted.

"You think your precious Federation can sustain its control much longer? Peace is an illusion! A dangerous illusion, that lets warriors grow fat and complacent. What then, when war comes knocking?"

Worf stepped forward with a snarl. "So you would seek it out instead? Who are you, anyway?" he demanded.

"I am Captain Jarat, leader of this glorious revolution."

"You do not have the markings of a captain," Worf noted. "What happened here? Where is the rest of your crew?"

"Mutiny." A small voice rose from behind them. All eyes turned to the raven-haired woman kneeling in her own blood. "There was a mutiny, wasn't there?"

Jarat's lips curled back like a rabid dog. "Our captain refused to see the truth. He had forgotten what it meant to be a Klingon. I implore you, brother. Remember! Win back your honor!"

"A war without reason-where is the honor in that?"

"Without reason? Do you not understand?"

"Of course he doesn't understand." The young woman's voice grew stronger. "He was taken in by a human family before the age of inclusion. His spirit has been dulled by time among man."

Riker's blood ran cold. There was a rapt sort of fascination on Carmen's face as she gazed up at the renegade. While his words had failed to enchant Worf, it appeared they had reached another pair of unwitting ears.

"Who are you, to speak for him?" Jarat sneered.

"She is my charge," Riker intervened hastily. "Do not listen to her."

"I am his _prisoner_ ," she snapped. "A prisoner of the Federation. And we share the same contempt, you and I."

"We share nothing, human!" Jarat stormed over to the young woman. Despite Riker's sharp protest, the Klingon's hand flew and she went sprawling across the ground.

"You are wrong," she muttered, spitting out a mouthful of blood and pulling herself up again. "I am more Klingon than that _pahtak!_ " She jerked her head towards Worf.

"Carmen, stop this!" Riker hissed. "Be quiet!"

"You see?" she said, keeping her eyes locked on Jarat. "See how they try to control me?"

Jarat paused. "What do you have against the Federation?" he inquired, his voice laced with a begrudging curiosity.

"They ripped me from my home as a child. Forced my service, my loyalty. Took everything I had, and then asked for more."

"Listen to me, Carmen," Riker pleaded. "You don't know what you are saying. Please-"

"Quiet!" Jarat bellowed. He grabbed hold of Carmen's chin and searched her face intently. As his nails dug into her skin he waited for her to wince, but she did not. Instead, she stared fearlessly back. "Hmph," he mused. "You have the heart of a warrior after all. What a pity; such valiance wasted on a small and useless creature."

"Useless?" A treacherous smile crossed her bloody lips. "I know how to run a Federation flagship. Imagine one of _those_ at your disposal."

Riker felt as though someone had knocked the wind out of him. "No…" he gasped. "Don't do this! You're making a mistake!"

A malicious hunger flickered behind Jarat's eyes. "Bring her with us," he ordered, tossing her aside. "Perhaps she can be of some use."

Carmen landed at the foot of Riker's cell. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. "Carmen...what are you doing?"

Swallowing hard, she climbed to her feet. "Sorry, commander. I'm tired of being a prisoner."

"It was wrong, what they did to you. But now you're just doing it to yourself. Do you miss the war that much?"

She said nothing, trying hard to pretend that his words had not landed.

"What about your father?" Riker continued, trying desperately to jostle her resolve.

Her fists clenched at her sides until the knuckles turned white. "My father is gone! And so are his ideals."

Suddenly a guard shoved her from behind. "Move!" he barked. Carmen stumbled forward onto her knees. Then she cast the commander one final, spiteful glance before getting up and leaving the brig with her new crewmates.


	13. Prejudice

_The door slid open. There, just beyond the threshold, lay the captain's ready room. Carmen took a deep breath, then stepped inside for the first time in seven years._

 _It looked smaller than she remembered. Her hand reached out to graze the walls as if she could touch the very memories they held. She spied Captain Picard sitting at his desk, nose in a book. For a moment, Carmen pretended he had been right there all along. For a moment, she let herself believe that nothing had changed._

" _Did you need something?" Picard prompted, eyes still on the page._

 _Carmen straightened the hem of her tunic and waited with an eager smile for him to look up. But her smile wilted when he did not._

" _Sir," she finally called. "It's...it's me."_

 _Picard's attention snapped up at the sound of her voice. "Carmen?" He rose quickly from his chair, fingertips resting on top of the book._

 _Carmen could see a younger version of herself rushing forward into his embrace. It made her heart ache in corners she had long since forgotten about. "I uh, I just arrived," she said, mustering another smile._

" _Yes, I know," he said with an abruptness that cut her like a knife. He turned away from the desk, and away from Carmen. "Admiral Leyton notified me. He...he sings your praises."_ _A note of disgust in Picard's voice made her squirm with shame. And the mention of Leyton served as a grim reminder that things had, in fact, changed._

" _Sir, I know it has been a long time-"_

" _Why did he send you, Carmen?"_

 _She felt her stomach drop to the floor. "S-Sir?" she stammered._

 _He swivelled back around, a bitter blaze burning in his eyes."Is it because of the Romulans?"_

 _She clasped her hands together to keep from wringing them. "Leyton informed me of their presence aboard, yes," she said, shying away from a more direct answer._

 _Picard grunted, regarding her with a wariness that made Carmen's heart ache all over again._

" _Why, sir?" she blurted out. "Why are you keeping them captive?"_

" _You mean why am I keeping them alive?" He blew out a short, sharp breath. "Because I have enough blood on my hands. They were injured and alone, living in the rubble of their outpost. To leave them there would have been to sentence them to death."_

" _But sir-all Romulans have been sentenced to death. It is the council's decree."_

" _The council and their decrees," Picard scoffed. "Do you know what outpost I found them on?"_

" _What does that have to do with-"_

" _D67."_

 _The rest of the sentence died in her throat. Picard lifted his chin, scrutinizing her reaction. "I thought you might know of that outpost."_

" _Yes, sir," she admitted. "I...I aided in the neutralization of it three months ago."_

" _Neutralization?" His mouth twisted in revulsion. "Is that what they are calling it? In your father's day, it was called murder." Picard returned to his desk, heaving himself into the chair as if he could not bear the weight of the word._

" _No," she asserted. "Murder is the destruction of innocent lives. Those Romulans were not innocent."_

 _"We have all lost our innocence, haven't we? Tell me, Carmen. Would you be willing to...to listen to one?"_

 _Her face furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"_

 _A wretched realization seeped into Picard's eyes, extinguishing the bitter blaze. "You've forgotten, haven't you?"_

" _Forgotten what, sir?"_

" _Your mother's gift."_

 _Carmen's jawline tightened. "Are you speaking of my empathic abilities? Yes, I have forgotten. E_ _mpathy is a disservice to a warrior. One must wear armor on the battlefield."_

 _Picard nodded slowly, mournfully. The sorrow that filled his eyes now flooded his face as well. "Carmen," he began, leaning forward onto his desk. "If you can...if you will remember how...you must listen to them. Go down to the brig and meet the Romulans face-to-face. No battlefield. No armor."_

" _That would be fraternization!" Her cheeks flushed with indignation. "Why have you given them such mercy? They would kill you if they had the chance!"_

 _"You know this for sure?"_

" _They are Romulans. Of course they would."_

 _He clicked his tongue. "What a sad era, when it is easier to smash an atom than a prejudice. Albert Einstein said that once. He was speaking of a different era, of course. But how tragic that we find ourselves there once more."_

" _Captain, please," Carmen pleaded, advancing towards him. "You have upset a lot of people in high places. These Romulans are not worth it."_

" _Worth the disapproval of a bunch of bureaucrats?"_

 _She lowered her voice and leaned forward, palms on the edge of the desk. "There is more at stake than you realize, sir."_

 _His eyes narrowed. Slowly, gradually, his face hardened into a stone wall. "I see," he muttered. "I see now."_

 _He pushed away from the desk and picked up the book, dusting off its cover. "I'm sure you have duties to attend to, ensign." He nestled the book onto a crowded shelf. "Dismissed."_

" _Captain!" Her voice strained direly. "You have to listen-"_

" _I said dismissed!" His words cut through more than the air. It was as if they cut through a bond somehow, somewhere. Carmen turned away without another word, tears springing to her eyes._

 _Yes, things had changed. And now she knew for sure-there was no going back._

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay with this chapter! Still working on the new house, and preparing for the holiday weekend. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way! Thanks so much for reading! To my new readers-I hope you continue to like the story, and I appreciate the follows :-). I think I'll take some time off from home improvements and spend my vacation writing with a full plate of food next to the computer haha. Next chapter coming right up!**


	14. No More Blues

Riker and Worf languished in the belly of the Bird-of-Prey for what seemed like centuries. Without their combadges or any of their gear, it was impossible to tell how long it had actually been. There was no sign of Carmen or the Klingons, besides the occasional jug of dirty water brought their way by a grumbling guard.

Then, the monotony was finally broken. The brig door swung open. Raucous sounds of revelry rose in the distance. Carmen stumbled forth with an armful of food.

"Dinnertime!" she announced, tossing them some questionable-looking spindles of meat. "Krada legs all around!"

Riker squinted. "Are you _drunk_?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but a hiccup fell out instead. A sheepish grin crawled across her face. "I may have partaken of some bloodwine."

Riker scowled, thoroughly disgusted. "You need help, Carmen."

" _I_ need help?" She stifled another hiccup. " _You're_ the one behind bars. But don't worry-the Enterprise is on its way."

"The Enterprise? Why?"

Her grin suddenly fled. One of her hands flew to her belly. "Oh no. If only I had more than one stomach, like you Worf…"

"Focus, Carmen!" Riker snapped. "Did you contact the Enterprise?"

She shook her head. "No sir. Jarat did."

"Jarat?"

"He told them- _hic_ -that he found our damaged shuttlecraft. That a Klingon and two humans were aboard, in need of medicin-medic-meda-" She fumbled with the word. "In need of help."

Riker narrowed his eyes. "Whatever you're planning, it won't work."

"Just...just eat your krada legs," she urged, sloppily wiping the corner of her mouth with a sleeve. "They're delicious. Although I think I had one too many. Maybe five too many."

Folding his arms, Riker scoffed aloud. "One, I'm not touching those. Two, you really think you'll be able to commandeer a ship like the Enterprise?"

Carmen's face drew long and serious suddenly. "Yes, commander," she replied. "I have done it before."

Riker's jaw slackened. " _What?_ But how-but what-what do you mean?"

Still leaning against the bars, she slowly slid down to the floor. Her legs folded beneath her, crumpling beneath the weight of her guilt. "The Final Frontier, they called it," she mumbled bitterly. "People back then, they thought...they thought the future was somewhere out there. But I've _been_ out there." She rapped a knuckle against her chest. "And there is no future. There is only death."

"The Enterprise, Carmen," Riker reminded her. "You were talking about the Enterprise."

She blinked up at him. "It's gone! I watched it happen, you know. Watched the end."

"Before that," Riker pressed. "What happened before that? Think, Carmen!"

She looked to the far side of the brig as if searching for the answer. "They...they knew Picard wouldn't give up the Enterprise without a fight, see. And that's what I was good at. Fighting."

" _Who_ knew?"

"The council."

Riker stumbled back a step out of shock. "The _council_?"

She nodded grimly. "They asked me to turn on him. To turn on the man that my father looked up to. Wharton didn't think I had it in me."

"Wharton?" Riker looked questioningly to Worf, who shook his head.

"I have not heard of him either, sir."

"No, no," Carmen said, waving her hand with an exaggerated gesture. "You wouldn't know him. He wasn't assigned to the Enterprise til after your funeral."

The commander took another step back. Bloodwine had blurred the lines between Carmen's realities.

"I still think about it, you know," she continued. "Your funeral, I mean. Haven't played my trombone since. I was too mad at you." Her eyes glossed over as her mind drifted to another time, another place. "You know what it was like, to go back to our quarters alone? To clean up after the pancakes we made that morning..." She slouched against the bars and stifled a sob. Then, as if to console herself, she began singing softly under her breath in a drunken, off-key tune.

" _No more fears and no more sighs,_

 _No more tears, I've said my last my last good-byes_

 _If trouble beckons me, I swear I'm gonna refuse_

 _I'm gonna settle down, there'll be no more blues."_

It dawned on Riker then, what she was singing. It was his favorite song. He had just played it in the shuttle before they were captured-No More Blues _,_ by Carmen McRae. _Her namesake,_ he suddenly realized. He recalled her outburst upon waking up to that song, and felt foolish for not making the connection sooner.

Riker crouched beside the bars, pity deepening the lines of his face. He reached through and placed one of his hands over hers. "Carmen, listen," he entreated. "You're not well. Something tells me that you haven't been well for awhile. Why don't you open this gate and let me help you?"

Her eyes wandered back to him, and back to the present. "Hey, I saved you some krada legs!" She pushed away from the bars and climbed unsteadily to her feet. "Eat up! You'll need...you'll need them. Just don't let Jarat see." She stumbled towards the door.

"Wait-please! Carmen! Come back!"

But it was too late. Riker and Worf were alone in the brig once more. The commander sighed in exasperation as he slid to the floor.

"Well, sir," Worf piped up. "At least we have food now."

Riker looked down at the krada legs with disgust. "Eat all you want," he offered. "I've lost my appetite." He flung one towards the Klingon. Then he froze.

For there, beneath the krada leg he had just picked up, lay their combadges.


	15. Ramhaj

" _You can't do this Wharton!" Picard roared. He struggled violently in the grip of two officers-two officers who, just that morning, had taken his orders and called him captain._

 _Wharton ignored him. He stood before the navigation console, fingers moving deftly over the screen. "The Tarquin Sector? Have you lost your mind, old man? Why were you taking us into Romulan territory?"_

 _Picard glowered at him fiercely. "I have my reasons."_

 _Wharton left the station and advanced towards Picard. "Wrong. You have nothing. Nothing at all now." His hand flew, striking the captain across his cheek._

" _You're going to have to do a lot better than that," Picard retorted, turning his face brazenly back._

 _Wharton drew even closer. "Gladly." His hand flew again. And again. And again._

 _Picard groaned with every impact. Eventually his knees sank to the floor, though still the officers held him up for the ruthless beating. They did not hear the turbolift doors open._

" _NO!" Someone plowed into Wharton's side. The commander and his assailant tumbled to the ground together. A metallic crescent flew through the air upon impact. Lieutenant Laforge pulled away, hands feeling desperately for his visor._

" _What the-? You!" Wharton's face reddened with rage. He climbed to his feet and drove his boot into the lieutenant's ribs. Laforge cried out as pain bloomed from his side._

" _Laforge!" Picard shouted, straining against his captors anew. He watched, helpless and horrified, as Wharton's arm recoiled for a punishing blow. But the blow never landed. For something flew in front of Wharton's fist at the last second and struck it off course. The commander staggered back a step, stunned._

 _Laforge heard a pair of boots plant themselves protectively near his face. Slowly, he uncovered his head. Though he could not see, he knew who had come to his rescue. "Carmen…" he breathed, hope and relief rushing into his lungs._

" _I'm here, Geordi." She picked up the visor and rested it gently over his eyes. Once it was back in place, she turned around to face Wharton. "Leave him alone, do you understand?"_

 _For a few tense moments, the young woman and the commander stared one another down. Then, an unsettling smile drifted across Wharton's face. "Very well." His posture relaxed. He shoved a hand through his sandy-colored hair and then straightened the cuffs on his sleeve. "I assume you have things from here, Number One?"_

 _Though Carmen was careful not to turn and look at Picard, she could feel the weight of his blistering stare. Behind her, Laforge stammered for words. "Wh-wh-what does he mean?"_

" _I'm sorry, Geordi. I'm so sorry." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Please-don't fight it. I don't want you to get hurt. I...I never wanted you to get hurt."_

" _Don't fight it? Are you crazy?" Laforge pushed himself to his feet. "You can't-you can't-" Two officers appeared, taking hold of the lieutenant before he could finish his sentence._

" _No!" Carmen grabbed one of the guards and whipped him to the ground. Then her leg shot out, catching the other in the gut and propelling him backwards. A new round of officers edged forward, but Wharton waved them off._

" _Don't bother. She'll take them to the brig herself. Isn't that right, Number One?"_

 _Carmen looked back at Laforge. He shook his head, silently pleading._

" _Yes," she said, turning away lest her resolve crumble. "I will."_

* * *

 _Three Romulans hastened to their feet as Picard limped into their midst, followed closely by Laforge. One of them, the youngest, darted forward towards the captain._

" _Get away from him!" Carmen snarled. He froze, hand outstretched. Too late she realized his intentions._

" _It's alright, Toleel," Picard assured. He made his way over to the bulkhead unassisted. There he eased himself to the floor, legs sliding out beneath him._

 _Laforge, however, remained standing. "How long?" he demanded. "How long have you and Wharton been planning this?"_

 _Carmen winced. "It wasn't my plan, Geordi. It was the council's."_

" _What are you talking about?"_

 _Carmen's anger returned. It gave her the strength to finally meet Picard's gaze. "It's true, isn't it? That you were the one keeping me away?"_

 _A grave understanding filled Picard's eyes. "Yes," he confessed. "It was me."_

 _Carmen's stomach lurched violently. "You made a promise!" she shrieked. "Do you even remember that day? I held onto every word you said. All this time, I thought you were somewhere out there, on my side, waiting for me to come home. Tell me, Picard-" Her voice broke with bitter tears. "How easy was it, to forget the daughter of a man who died for you?"_

" _I never forgot about you, Carmen." Picard struggled to his feet. Toleel stepped forward to try and help again, but one of the other Romulans stopped him. "For seven years, I followed your every move. Read every report that came out of your sector."_

" _Then why?" She swallowed her tears and clung tighter to her anger. "Why didn't you let me come home?"_

" _I'm just as culpable, you know. I stood by as they threw our children to the wolves. But you...you survived." He stood face to face with her now, the invisible barrier humming between them. "And the more I saw of your record, the more that I knew for sure-"_

" _Knew WHAT?" she cried._

" _You didn't just survive. You became one of the pack."_

Carmen bolted upright. She was alone in a corner of Jarat's ship, sleeping off her latest bloodwine binge. She shook her head as if she could shake loose the echoes of Picard's words, but they had already lodged into her heart like a knife.

" _Ramhaj_ again?" A voice rumbled.

She scrambled to get her back against the nearest wall. "Who's there?"

A Klingon leaned inside a nearby doorway, looking down at her with an ugly, amused grin. "Your sleep is plagued. We call it _ramhaj_ ," he said. "The men in the brig-do they trouble your conscience?"

She pushed away images of Geordi and Picard. "Of course not."

"Good. Because I have come to let you know-the Enterprise will be here within the hour."

* * *

 **A/N: Ahh thanks so much for the latest comments! It's so exciting to hear that you guys are enjoying things! :-) Also, sorry for yet another delay. But we are almost done with the house, so I'm looking forward to having a lot more time to write soon! Thanks for sticking with me-I promise not to take a whole week again before the next chapter!**


	16. What's in a Name

**A/N: Ahh thank-you, angel897! I hope you continue to like it :-)**

* * *

"Number One, can you hear me?" Riker's combadge came to life with the captain's voice. He sat up hastily.

"I'm here, sir," he replied.

"Is everyone alright?"

"Yes, sir. But it's a trap. Jarat is trying to lure-"

"I know. Vullek relayed your message. Just keep your combadges close so we can beam you over as quickly as possible when the time comes."

Riker and Worf stared at one another quizzically. "Vullek? Message? Sir...I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't send any message."

There was a confused pause on the other end. "But the message bore your name," Picard insisted.

Then the commander understood. "You mean the name Riker?"

"Yes of cour-" The same implications suddenly dawned on Picard. "Ah. Where is Carmen now? Is she with you?"

"No, sir. I'm not sure where she is. But don't try to contact her; Jarat believes she is on their side."

"Understood." There was another pause. "Number One...what do _you_ believe?"

Riker hesitated. Her drunken confessions rang in his head. He could still see the haunted grief behind her eyes, the abiding shame. And yet, there was something else as well. Deep inside, Riker had glimpsed a faint light glowing like an ember that clung to the chance of becoming a blaze.

"Sir, I believe she is trying to redeem herself."


	17. War

**A/N: Angel897-Aww, you made my day! Thanks so much for the follow and the comments! :-)**

* * *

"They are hailing us, sir," Data informed the captain. Picard rose from his seat at the helm. To his left, a dark-haired woman came to her feet as well. A massive Bird-of-Prey hovered in their viewscreen.

"They are in there, sir. I can sense it." Troi's eyes seemed to be peering right into the heart of the formidable ship.

Picard nodded and cleared his throat, readying himself for the charade. "Put it through, Data."

"Yes, sir."

Their view of the Bird-of-Prey was replaced with a foreign-looking bridge. A Klingon warrior stared steadily back at them. "Captain Picard, I presume?" His voice rumbled like a low growl.

"You are correct. Am I speaking with Jarat, the one who found and rescued my crew members?"

"Indeed."

Picard feigned a smile. "Then you have my gratitude. I am rather eager to have them returned. Are they faring well?"

"Better than the shuttle; it was all but destroyed. It cannot be flown back to the Enterprise, I'm afraid."

"Quite alright. We can beam them directly into our transporter room."

"Yes, that's right." Something sinister curled Jarat's lips. "We will prepare for transport, then."

Jarat cut the feed and turned towards the shadows behind him. "If you have lied about this-"

"I have not lied." Carmen interrupted. "Trust me, he will lower his shields. The transporters won't work while they are raised."

Jarat grunted. "Watch for it, Koll," he ordered an officer sitting behind the tactical station. "Then...let us begin this war."

Koll nodded, licking his lips like a lion before the kill. Neither Klingon noticed Carmen shift stealthily in the dark.

* * *

"O'Brien, do you have a lock on them?" Picard drummed his fingers impatiently as he awaited the chief's response to come through his combadge.

"I have initiated transport procedures for Worf and Riker, sir."

"And Carmen?"

"I can't locate her. The shields are interfering with the sensors, sir."

Picard nodded. "Lower the shields then. It's time."

* * *

Something blinked on Koll's screen. "They have lowered their shields!" he reported.

Jarat laughed triumphantly, a strident and ugly sound. He rubbed his hands together with vigor. "You know what to do."

A flick of Koll's hand, and a twin pair of blazes hurtled towards the vulnerable Enterprise. Jarat leaned forward in his chair, eyes shining lustfully as he awaited the destruction. Triumph swelled in his chest like a glorious sun rising over his new empire.

But his victory was snatched away as the torpedos shattered well before reaching the Federation vessel. Their sparks flew out into space, joining the black nothingness as they died in vain.

" _Maw'tok_!" Jarat spat, springing to his feet. "What is this? You told me their shields-"

"Their shields are still down!" Koll insisted. At that moment, several things happened in quick and chaotic succession. First, another Bird-of-Prey decloaked between them and the Enterprise. While Jarat sputtered in disbelief, Carmen leapt forth and whipped Koll's disruptor from its holster.

Then a younger Klingon appeared on the viewscreen. There was a certain valor built into his countenance and a self-assured strength in his voice. "This is Captain Vullek," he said. "I am ordering you to surrender immediately."

Jarat roared, lashing a fist across his own chest. "I am Klingon, same as you! We do not surrender!"

"Then keep this among us. Leave the Enterprise out of it."

"You would choose humans over your own blood?"

Vullek stayed the course. "I would choose peace over a dishonorable war."

"So be it." Jarat growled in disgust. "Koll-the disruptor cannons!"

But when Jarat spun around, he discovered an unconscious Koll sprawled at the base of his station. Carmen leaned over the screen, her fingers flying with swift precision.

"YOU!" Jarat's eyes narrowed to slits. Like an angry avalanche, he barrelled towards the young woman. Her fingers worked even faster, not daring to flinch, all the way up until she was dragged out of the seat by her collar.

"It was you! You have betrayed us!" Jarat held her inches from his face. Carmen could feel his hot, rancid breath rushing over her skin. "I should have known better. You are nothing but a traitor!"

"Yes," she said, glaring back at him unapologetically. "You are right about that." For a moment, it looked as if she had accepted her fate. Then, with lightning speed, her foot swung up and caught him under the chin. He howled in pain, dropping the young woman at the same time. She sprang back at him the second she touched the ground. A blood-curdling battle cry ripped from her throat.

* * *

"Their shields-their shields have been lowered!" An ensign standing behind the controls gaped at his screen in disbelief.

"Now, O'Brien!" Picard ordered. His eyes latched on to a ball of fire that flew from their protector's wing and buried itself into the side of Jarat's ship. The wounded Bird-of-Prey lilted to the side. Troi glanced at Picard worriedly.

"O'Brien?" The captain's voice strained with urgency.

"I have Worf and the commander, sir. Locking in Carmen now…"

"Captain!" Troi cried. A second torpedo had launched from Vullek's ship. This time, however, it did not land. It blasted against an invisible barrier, which rippled beneath the impact and sent back shimmering waves of light. Another torpedo flew forth in retaliation.

"Sorry, sir," came O'Brien's voice. "Transport failed. Their shields are back in place."

"No…" Troi's chest shuddered with an anxious breath.

Picard's mind raced for another answer. "Data, make contact with Vullek."

"Yes, sir."

The Klingon appeared on their viewscreen once more. The bridge around him quaked from tremors of battle.

"Captain Vullek," Picard hailed. "One of our own is still aboard. We were unable to beam her away before Jarat's shields went up."

"I am truly sorry, but I cannot stop this battle." Vullek's eyes relayed sincere sympathy. "I will try my best to see that their shields are destroyed before the ship is. Perhaps you will have time..."

"Yes. I understand. Thank-you."

Vullek disappeared from the screen. The turbolift doors swished open just then and Commander Riker sprinted through. "Carmen is still on that ship, sir!"

"Will…" Troi took a step towards him. Her face flushed with relief to see him again. He cupped the side of her arm tenderly, surprised at how relieved he felt as well.

"I'm aware, Number One," Picard said, drawing his attention away from the counselor. "Unfortunately, this is not in our hands anymore."

"Sir, we can't just-"

"Sit down." Picard ordered. He threw him a stern but understanding looking. "Jarat's shields will not hold much longer. We may have a chance yet."

Riker obeyed, gritting his teeth together. He pictured the young woman left to fend for herself, facing Jarat's fury alone. " _Hang on, Carmen_ ," he thought. " _Fight back. Just a little while longer…_ "

It felt like ages crawled by. Then, at long last, one of Vullek's torpedoes shattered the shields. "Beam her aboard!" Picard ordered, not wasting a second. Troi sucked in her breath.

"I can't, sir," came O'Brien's reply.

"What do you mean?" Picard pressed.

Riker felt Troi searching for his gaze, but he stared straight ahead, not wanting her to sense the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"The sensors can't locate her anymore. There's no human life aboard."

"She's there. Keep looking!"

"I've done multiple sweeps, sir. There's no human _life_." O'Brien emphasized the last word with a graveness that blanketed the bridge in silence.

Riker sank further into his chair, still staring straight ahead. Vullek's face appeared on the viewscreen.

"Jarat is almost finished. Shall I continue, or do you need more time?"

Picard let out a long and deep breath. Then he uttered a single word that weighed heavily on the commander's heart: "Continue."

Riker's hands gripped his knees as one final blast tore through Jarat's ship. Shards of debris spun off into space, each one smoldering like the flame of a dying candle in a hauntingly beautiful sort of way. Jarat's war was over, just as it had barely begun.

"I...I think I'll check in with Dr. Crusher," Riker said, turning away from the field of destruction that spread out before them. He thought of how Carmen had witnessed her Enterprise meet a similar fate. He understood now, the helplessness, the empty anger, the weight of being on the side of survival.

"Yes." Picard nodded pensively. "Dismissed, Number One."

Troi rose suddenly, catching both men's attention. She moved towards the viewscreen with small, halting steps. Riker's face furrowed with concern as he watched her. "Deanna? What is it?"

She took so long to answer, Riker almost thought she wouldn't. "Hm? Oh, it's...it's nothing," she finally said. Her shoulders sank in bitter dismay. "Perhaps you were right, Will. Perhaps I'm just looking for a connection that isn't there."


	18. What Could Have Been

**A/N: To Blackhawk68, Angel897, WIWJ, and Zara08-you guys are so awesome! Oh my gosh, I got so giddy reading your comments. I'm so glad you found my story! Thank-you thank-you thank-you for the support! It really means a lot. You are the best! I will most definitely keep the chapters coming. :-)**

* * *

Riker set a strip of meat down on the burning hot skillet, relishing its sizzle. It was like a beautiful song to the commander's ears. He set about chopping some vegetables on a little side table, grateful for the comfort and distraction that came from cooking the old-fashion way.

Door chimes broke his concentration. Riker looked up, his face scrunched in confusion. He hadn't been expecting company. And he wasn't so sure that he wanted any. "Coming, coming," he grumbled, hurriedly wiping his hands on a nearby towel. The door slid open to reveal a familiar face waiting upon his threshold.

"Hey!" Troi's smile, soft and warm, changed the commander's mind about not wanting company. "May I come in?"

"Deanna! Of course you can." He smiled back. "Hungry?"

"Oh, that depends," she quipped, following him inside. "What are you making?"

Riker scoffed. "Come on, when have I ever cooked something you didn't like?"

Her smile turned devious. "I can't remember; it's been so long since you've cooked for me." She leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest.

Riker laughed wryly. "Okay, okay, fair enough. Here, I'll give you extra bell pepper. I know you like the yellow ones best." He scraped some onto a plate while Troi took a seat at the table. She cast him a grateful gaze.

"Well, it smells delicious."

Riker inhaled deeply. "I've been dreaming of a good steak. Can't seem to get the taste of krada legs out of my mouth. They're kind of a cross between burnt rubber and rancid pork."

"Krada legs?" She tilted her head.

"Yeah, Carmen hid our combadges in a pile of them. Thought she was feeding us, but I guess all her time with Klingons made her forget what real food was like!" Riker started to laugh, but the smile froze on his face. An image of Jarat's battle-torn ship drifting through space flashed in his mind.

Troi fell silent as well. Something chilled the air as each remembered the weight of what had happened.

"Will," Troi said softly. "About her...it wasn't your fault, you know."

Riker carried the plates over to the table and set them down in stiff silence. It wasn't until he had taken his seat that he finally spoke. "It's a shame, a damn shame. Nobody had to die. I keep thinking, maybe there was something I could've done. Maybe-"

"No. You can't think like that." Troi reached out and placed a hand over his arm. "Jarat made his choice."

"She was my charge, Deanna. I was supposed to get us to the council safely."

A sad, knowing smile touched the corner of Troi's mouth. "But that's not all she was."

"What do you mean?"

"She was more than just your charge. Come on, Will. We've run into some strange things out here. Found all kinds of new discoveries, new possibilities. But..well, never _that_ possibility."

Riker nodded solemnly. "You're not supposed to know about the things that could have been. Not supposed to come face to face with them."

"Do you wish we never met her?" Troi's dark eyes searched his.

"No. Well...not exactly. I just wish things had been different."

"That Jarat had never intercepted your shuttle?"

"No, I mean different for _her_. She was so...so troubled." He shook his head. "The whole thing is hard to swallow. I mean, somewhere out there, there was another version of us. And that's what became of our daughter? It isn't fair. She was left behind, Deanna. Left at the mercy of a cruel council and a cruel war..."

"Then she came here," Troi pointed out.

"And still I couldn't save her." Glumly, Riker hunched his shoulders as he heaved out a sigh.

"She was trying to save _you_." Troi scooted closer. Her fingers absent-mindedly stroked his arm. "So it wasn't in vain. She died doing something right. I think that's all she ever wanted."

Riker looked over at her with a furrowed brow. "What makes you say that?"

"I saw things, remember? Things she had done. I believe that when she shut me out...it's because she was ashamed. She never wanted her parents to know what became of her. But what she did back there, it proves something. It proves that the war didn't destroy her. And _that's_ what really became of our daughter. She was strong. Through all that darkness, she was strong."

A soft glow of admiration replaced the commander's sullen scowl. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You just...you have a way of seeing things like nobody else can. It's something I've always appreciated about you."

Troi smiled gently. Her hand found its way to his. And as they touched, an old bond latched somewhere in Riker's chest. It made his heart pound as she leaned closer, eyes shining with anticipation. Riker's other hand went to her cheek, guiding her face nearer to his...

"Number One?" The captain's voice shattered the moment abruptly.

Riker sighed. His hands returned to the table. "Go ahead, captain."

"Come to the bridge immediately. There's something you need to see."


	19. Humility

Riker stepped off the turbolift, approaching the bridge with long, hurried strides. He found Picard standing at Data's shoulder. Both men stared at something on the viewscreen intently. Riker squinted, trying to make out what it was. Stars in the distance flickered as an object passed before them, bearing down on the Enterprise.

"Sir?"

Picard looked over his shoulder at the commander. "We're being followed, Number One."

Riker's brows drew together. "Followed, sir?"

"Data just informed me of a vessel that appears to have been tailing us."

"Why didn't we notice sooner?"

"It is Toron class, sir," Data responded. "They are equipped with cloaking capabilities."

"Toron-that's Klingon, isn't it?" Something clamored in Riker's head, but he didn't dare give it hope.

Data perused the sensor readings. "Yes, sir. It is indeed a Klingon shuttlecraft. One life form aboard. Human."

Picard met the commander's gaze with a hint of a smile. Riker shook his head incredulously. "No, no. You don't think that-"

"I do, in fact." The smile leapt full across his face. "She _is_ the daughter of William T. Riker, after all."

"Sir-" Data interjected. "The shuttlecraft is hailing us. Audio only."

Riker took a deep breath, still biding his hope. He approached the captain's side and waited.

"Put it through," Picard ordered.

A familiar voice drifted through the intercom. "This is Ensign Riker to Enterprise."

Riker sank into his seat, shaking his head some more.

"We're here," Picard replied. "But some of us are rather surprised to hear from you again. You've come back?"

"Yes, sir." Her voice was gentler than the commander had ever heard, softened by a note of unwonted humility. "But the truth is...I almost didn't."

Riker pulled his shoulders back to sit straighter in his chair. "What changed your mind?"

Her hesitation was palpable, even through the intercom. "Well...my arm...it's broken, see. And your doctor did such a fantastic job patching me up last time."

Picard's eyes glimmered with amusement. But Riker pressed on, not as entertained. "Why did you _really_ come back, Carmen?"

There was another long pause. "I didn't mean it, when I said I wanted off the Enterprise. I know it's not my ship, but...it's all I have left. Please, captain. I want to come back. Please...let me return?"

Riker met the captain's eyes, letting the question linger heavily between them. Picard mulled over Carmen's words-and her actions in contemplative silence. Then, a slowly growing smile spread across his face.

"Permission granted."


	20. Somewhere Out There

"Alright, I think that about does it." Beverly Crusher pulled away from the young woman with a curt nod. She set a strange-looking medical device on the bedside table.

Carmen sat up, nursing her arm out of habit. Then she slowly extended it, testing for pain. "It's healed? Just like that?"

"Just like that! You didn't have osteogenic simulators in your universe?"

"No. The Klingons that I served with-they regarded it as an honor, to suffer from battle wounds."

Crusher nodded sympathetically. "Well, Klingons have a much hardier anatomy than we do."

"And much hardier stomachs," someone added. Their attention whipped to the doorway, where Riker appeared. His blue eyes smiled with a mischievous sort of smirk.

"Didn't care for the krada legs, commander?" Carmen teased, her own blue eyes smiling at him in return.

"Not at all. And are you telling me that you'll eat that stuff, but you don't like oatmeal?"

Carmen shrugged, trying to ignore a pang of guilt as she recalled their feud on the shuttle before they were captured. "Oatmeal is disgusting."

Riker balked. "Doctor, are you sure you're finished? She must have hit her head pretty hard back there."

Crusher rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm quite finished-with both of you." She gathered up her instruments with a grin. "Now I must see to my other patients. Try and stay in one piece this time, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Carmen muttered.

Riker chuckled softly, wandering over. He took a seat at the end of the cot and leaned forward onto his elbows. As he did so, Carmen cast him a furtive glance. She found herself suddenly nervous in the lone presence of the commander, unsure of where they stood. How he felt. How _she_ felt.

"Hey, um...I wanted to say that I'm sorry," she said after a time. "For the deception."

"No, I get it. You needed Jarat to believe you."

"But you believed me, too, didn't you?" She looked up, searching his face for the answer. And then he saw it again: the deep and abiding shame usually so well covered by her veil of defiance.

"No, not really," he assured. She stared at him dubiously. "Okay, well...maybe for a minute or two."

Carmen let out a deep breath. "To tell you the truth, I believed it for a minute or two as well. Jarat was right about a few things, you know. This uniform...it has often felt like chains."

"That's why you stole the Toron shuttle, huh? To get away from it all?"

"Actually, that wasn't part of my original plan." Carmen grimaced. Her feet bounced against the side of the cot like a child caught in a lie.

Riker glanced at her sideways. "What do you mean?"

"I was going to stay on the bridge. See, I...well, I've cheated death so many times. I was tired of running from it."

The commander's gaze softened in the wake of her admission. "You wanted to go down with the ship?"

"Yes. I wanted to go on my terms, in a battle of my choosing. And I knew that you were safe, so..."

"So what stopped you?"

Something darkened her face, chasing away any child-like remnants. Riker shifted, uneased by the change.

"Commander, do you know of the Borg Collective?"

"The-?" He shook his head. "No, what does that mean?"

"It means the end." For the first time ever, Riker saw a hint of fear behind her eyes. "See, I don't know what happened out there, the day you found me. But if I came through, what if they can, too? What if they're already here?"

"I don't understand-"

"What if you're _not_ safe? I have to speak to your council. Maybe there's time to prepare...maybe your Earth can be saved..."

Riker straightened. "You mean you'll go? You'll meet with them?"

She nodded. "We _are_ still going, right?"

"Yeah. Earth is a ways out, but Picard said we're taking the Enterprise this time. The crew could use some shore leave. And besides, the council is eager to hear about what happened with Jarat. They've even called on Captain Vullek to meet us there."

"Vullek?" She brightened at the name.

Riker eyed her curiously. "Why did you contact him, by the way? Did you know him from before?"

"Yes. He was the nephew of my Klingon captain. Used to torment me all the time. For my blue eyes, for my smooth forehead..." A wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "But if ever there was someone I could entrust with my life, it was him. I knew he'd have your back, just as he always had mine."

"But how? I mean, how could you know that he'd be like that in our universe?"

"Well, _you_ are not so different-" Carmen looked away suddenly, biting down on her lip. Though she remained on the cot beside him, Riker could feel her retreating. Pity stirred in his heart.

"Carmen," he said, his voice low and understanding. "I know you miss your father. This must be-"

"Where will I be staying, by the way?" she interrupted, trampling over his gentle attempt. "Am I to go back in the brig until we reach Earth?"

"The brig...uh no. That won't be necessary." Riker found himself on the outside of her walls once again. They stood tall and they stood strong, hardened by years of tragedy. They would not come down in a day. "You're welcome to stay in guest quarters for now. Come on, I'll...I'll show you around."

Carmen watched as he climbed to his feet. Her heart crawled with guilt over the defeated look on his face. "Hey, commander?"

"Yeah?" He paused.

"Maybe...um...maybe we could get some food on the way? I don't know about you, but I'm pretty starving."

A spark of hope flickered in Riker's smile. "Sure. So long as it isn't krada legs."

Their laughter followed them out. As troubled as Carmen's mind still was, she couldn't help but think that maybe she had been wrong. Maybe there was more than just death on the Final Frontier. Maybe, somewhere out there, she had found a chance at life. A new life.

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 **A/N: So this is the end of Part 1. I had envisioned it kind of like its own episode. The next part will explore what transpires when they meet the council, what led to the destruction of Carmen's Enterprise, and what happened to her parents. It will have its own story arc, one that includes a new passenger and an ominous message. I was originally going to post it under its own story, but I think I"ll just add those chapters on to this one. So keep checking in!**

 **And thanks so much for the comments, angel897 and WIWJ :-) You guys keep me going!**


	21. Alone

**PART 2**

 _Klaxons pierced the air above a young girl. Red lights flashed their warning as she raced down the hall in a blind panic. She could feel the pounding of hearts, the frenzy of fear, like a landslide burying all other senses but her empathic ones. She couldn't even remember where she was going, only that she needed to flee._

 _The child slid around a corner and headlong into somebody. She tumbled to the ground with a yelp of surprise. When she dared to look up again, an alien was leering over her, something cruel and calculated in the depths of his pale eyes. She gaped at his strange, silver uniform. His sharply pointed ears. The eyebrows that angled upward towards jet black hair._

 _The alien raised his hand, brandishing some sort of weapon. She rolled into a protective ball, burying her head in her arms. The air cackled with the sound of an electric discharge. The young girl flinched, waiting for the searing pain to follow. But it did not come. When she cracked her eyes open again, she saw the alien lying on the ground, his silver uniform now singed from fresh phaser fire._

 _Then someone picked her up off the floor. She kicked her legs out, thrashing violently against them with a scream that rang in her ears above the din of the klaxons._

" _Carmen! It's me, Carmen! It's okay!" Her father shouted. He clutched her tightly against his chest until at last she stopped flailing._

" _Daddy?"_

" _I'm here, I'm here. I've got you." She curled into his embrace, shaking with every sob._

" _Was that a R-Romulan?" she stammered, keeping her eyes closed lest she catch sight of the body._

" _Yes, honey. But don't worry about him anymore."_

" _I thought you said...I thought Romulans stayed on their side, and we stayed on ours."_

" _That's how it's supposed to be. I don't know why they came over, why they attacked us. But Captain Picard will get to the bottom of it."_

" _I-I'm scared, daddy." She nestled into the crook of his neck and clasped him tighter still._

 _Her father pried the young girl gently away. Then he shifted her in his arms so that they were face to face. "Hey, hey," he crooned. "Come on, look at me." She opened her eyes. A quiet strength emanated from his gaze, drifting towards her like a liferaft. "We're aboard Starfleet's greatest ship. There's nothing to be scared of. The Enterprise will be around for years to come, trust me. A bunch of Romulans aren't going to change that."_

" _But what if they come back? What if you can't find me next time?"_

" _I'll always find you, Carmen. I promise." He started down the hall, carrying her in one arm and holding his phaser aloft in the other. She glanced up at the still-flashing lights and swallowed nervously._

" _You-you promise?"_

" _Yes. Your mother made me swear it. She knew us Rikers have a way of getting into trouble." A sad smile touched the corner of his lips._

" _My mother?" Carmen looked into his face, forgetting all about the red lights. It was rare for him to bring up the subject unprompted. "Daddy, was it Romulans? Is that how she-how she-"_

" _No, sweetheart."_

" _Then how? When will you tell me? I'm almost seven, you know."_

 _The klaxons ceased. Above their heads, the lighting returned to normal. Carmen felt her father's grip loosen slightly. "Hey, I have an idea," he said, holstering his phaser. "How about some hot cocoa?"_

Carmen sat up in the dark. "Dad?" she cried out. But only silence answered her. The realization that she was alone set in like a cold and merciless winter. Gone was her father's strength, her father's comfort. And so her fingers had been pried from the side of that liferaft, leaving her to drown in a sea of tortured memories every night.

She swung her legs to the floor and blew out a sigh. Her instincts clamored for an escape, but this time, her prison was within. She had returned to the Enterprise willingly. How many days ago was that? Three? Four? Carmen shook her head. Without sleep, time seemed to blur together.

Outside of a window to her right, stars shimmered like raindrops against a magnificent cloak of black. To others, it was a scene of serenity. But to Carmen, it was a reminder that she was alone in this universe, haunted by a war that only she could remember.

She had kept to her quarters mostly, shying away from company despite the commander's attempts. Carmen grimaced as she recalled the last time he was at her door. _"Have you ever had a Samarian Sunset? It's um...it's Deanna's favorite. Anyways, I'll be at Ten Forward for the next half hour, if you wanted to try one."_

For a moment, she considered going now. But what if Deanna was there? What if she saw other familiar faces? Faces that, like the stars, only reminded her of how utterly alone she was.

Then she saw it-her escape. Carmen sprang to her feet. She grabbed hold of a little table near the kitchenette and dragged it over to the replicator. Once it was close enough, she climbed atop and opened the panel in the back...

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 **A/N: WIWJ-Sorry to hold out on the Riker family bonding haha. Soon, though, I promise! :-p**


	22. A Bad Habit

**A/N: WIWJ-Next chapter, I promise! You'll get your answers, a Riker and Deanna flashback, and some current family bonding :-). I've already written it out, just have to begrudgingly work on some stuff around the house tonight to get ready for Christmas haha. But I'll try and give it a final edit so I can post it tomorrow! I wonder if it will be in line with your theory hehe :-).**

 **Angel897-Thanks so much for your faithful comments! I look forward to them every time. You are so awesome!**

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"Carmen, are you in there?" The commander stood outside her door, a seed of worry taking root in his mind. Already he had been trying to reach her for several minutes. She hadn't ventured out of her quarters much, but she had at least always made some sort of acknowledgment when he came to the door. Until now.

"I need an answer, Carmen!" Nothing. "Alright, that's it. I'm coming in." Riker typed an override into the door panel, drawing his phaser as soon as he heard the hydraulic hiss. "Hello?" He entered cautiously.

The quarters were in a chaotic state, with dirty laundry and dishes covering just about every surface. Riker checked the bed, but found only an empty tangle of sheets. Then a groan rose up from somewhere nearby. "Carmen?" the commander called. "Is that you?" Another groan answered him.

Something shifted in the mess at the foot of the couch. Riker approached slowly and discovered the young woman lying on her side, one arm draped across her stomach. "What-what happened?!" He rushed over, examining her for a wound of some kind. "Are you hurt?"

"Could you stop yelling?" She rested the back of a hand against her forehead. "I'm right here, you know."

"Carmen, what's going on?" he pressed.

" _Shhh_ …." She tried to sit up, grunting with the effort. As she did so, her elbow knocked into a glass. Clear liquid spilled across Riker's shoes. A strong smell wafted up from the glass. It wafted from Carmen's breath as well.

"Oh no," Riker bemoaned. "Tell me you didn't-our replicators can't even-" He turned, scanning the room for the machine. It sat in a corner of the kitchenette, its panel open and tampered with. His eyes narrowed. "Did you rig the replicator to produce real alcohol?"

"Rig what? Oh, yeah." A sheepish smile crept across her face. "Just a little trick I learned." She reached for a second glass near her feet.

"This isn't a trick, Carmen. It's a bad-" The commander snatched it away before her fingers could touch the rim. "It's a bad habit. And it has to stop _now_."

"Or what?" she retorted, scowling as he walked away with the glass.

"Push your luck, and you'll get kicked off the Enterprise. We have a ship to run here. And I thought you wanted to stay this time." He threw the glass into the waste tray of the replicator, then set about gathering more dirty dishes.

"It doesn't matter," she snapped. "I don't have long, anyways."

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, commander. It's not like the council will let me stay."

"Why not?"

She grumbled something under her breath and rubbed at her bleary eyes.

"I said why not?" he repeated. She pulled up her knees, slinging one arm over the top, and stared at him hard.

"You have faith in your council, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah I do. They aren't like the council you knew. They-"

"That's why they won't let me stay. Once I testify, they'll lock me up for good."

Riker threw a stack of dishes into the replicator. Then he turned around to face her, folding his arms across his chest. "Why, because of the mutiny?"

Her eyes flew wide. She scrambled to her feet in surprise. "How-how did you know about that?"

Riker leaned back against the counter, an amused smirk across his face. "You don't remember, do you? Was the bloodwine a little too much?"

Carmen's jaw tightened. A hint of color touched her cheeks, equal parts outrage and embarrassment. "I can hold my bloodwine better than some Klingons, commander!" She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in her best display of defiance. "But uh...how much do you know about the mutiny? What else did I say?"

Riker shrugged. "You mentioned a few other things."

Her nostrils flared. "Like what?"

"I'll tell you. But on one condition..."

"What?" She snorted. "No more drinking?"

"Oh, that won't be an issue anymore. I'll have Geordi reprogram your replicator." His smile widened with infuriating smugness.

"Then _what_?" She folded her arms as well, glowering at him as fiercely as she could. It didn't seem to have any effect on the commander.

"Come to Ten Forward with me," he offered. "I'll tell you over a couple of Samarian Sunsets."

A bitter laugh tumbled from her lips. "Why are you doing this? You're not my father, you know."

"No, Carmen. I'm not." Riker's smile waned. "But I'm not your enemy, either. I'm the one who found you out there, remember? I didn't have to pull you from that crash."

Carmen froze. Her father's promise rang in her head. " _I'll always find you_." The anger dissipated from her eyes.

"But I did. Because that's what members of the Enterprise do-we help those in need. Even when they try to make our lives miserable." He uncrossed his arms and strode towards her suddenly, something stern and intimidating in his gait. She took an involuntary step backwards, too surprised to stand her ground. "Nobody made you come back. Now _stop_ with the attitude. _Stop_ with the drinking. It's time to clean up your act and _do_ something with the chances you've been given." He picked up a towel from atop the sofa and chucked it at her. "Here-you can start with a shower. I'll be in Ten Forward for the next hour if you want to reconsider my deal. Got it?"

Carmen nodded in silent compliance.

"Good." The commander pulled his uniform straight, then turned and walked briskly out of her quarters. She could only stare at the closed door, dumbfounded.


	23. Duty Calls

**A/N: Phew, okay two chapters in two days! You'll finally get some answers in this one. And by the way-happy holidays, wherever you are! I have to switch from writer to Santa now and go put some presents under the tree. It's the first year my daughter is old enough to be excited about Christmas, so that's pretty special. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! And thanks again for everyone still reading. Angel897-I love your speculation! You are amazing :-)**

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 _Will strode into his quarters, easing the zipper away from the collar of his uniform. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to unlace his boots, humming a Dixieland tune all the while. It was then he caught sight of a half-packed suitcase, still open and waiting, on the floor by his feet._

 _"Waiting til the last minute?" he called._

 _"Shh! Carmen is napping!" Deanna appeared in the threshold, wearing a long, billowy robe. Her fingers moved swiftly through her ebony tresses, weaving them into rows of intricate braids. "And yes. Apparently, you've rubbed off on me."_

 _"Well, it was bound to happen," the commander smirked. "And I'm not sorry that it did."_

 _Deanna cast him a smirk of her own. "Neither am I." She finished one braid, pinned it to her scalp, and then started another._

 _Will leaned back onto the bed, taken by the soft curves that rose and fell beneath her robe as she stood in the doorway. But the suitcase would not leave his frame of view. He blew out a rueful sigh. "I'm going to miss you, you know."_

 _"Come now," she scolded gently. "It'll only be five days. Unless the negotiations run over, which nobody wants. Trust me, I'd rather be on the Enterprise with you and Carmen. But duty calls." She tried to appear business-like, but something grim settled over her countenance._

 _"Hey, what's that?" he prompted, noting the change. "Are you worried about the mission?"_

 _"No, no, it isn't that." She pinned another braid down, but instead of starting a new one, she let her hands fall to her sides. "It...it's Carmen."_

 _"Carmen?" Will echoed. "What do you mean? She'll be just fine. I was going to teach her the trombone while you're gone." Deanna threw him a pointed glare, which only made him laugh. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. We'll wait til she can walk first."_

 _A smile broke through Deanna's glare. "Just keep a close eye on her. You will, won't you?"_

 _"Of course I will." He sat up on the edge of the bed. "What are you so worried about, anyways? And don't tell me it's nothing; I may not be an empath, but you're not a good liar. Now come over here..." He extended an upturned hand. Innocent as the gesture was, something glinted in his eyes that was much less innocent._

 _"Will! You know I can't be late-" But her feet betrayed her, carrying her closer and closer to the bed. Her hand, just as traitorous, found its way into his. She sighed, resigning herself to defeat as their fingers laced together. "It's just...well, it's hard to explain."_

 _He ran his other hand across her cheek. "Try me, imzadi," he whispered._

 _Deanna looked into his face with a grateful smile. Then she took a deep breath, steeling herself. "There is a..a darkness. I can sense it sometimes, like it's lurking, waiting..."_

 _"Waiting for what?"_

 _"For our baby." Fear gathered in the lines of her forehead. "Please, Will-we can't let anything happen to her. I can't-I can't-"_

 _"Shh, shh," he crooned. "I won't let anything happen to her. Okay? I promise. This darkness-it can't have her. It can't have our daughter. She'll do great things for the Enterprise one day, you'll see." His impassioned words resounded through her empathic mind, rippling out into the very waves of time and space._

 _"Thank-you," she whispered, comforted at last. Then she closed her eyes and leaned in, grazing his lips with hers. She felt him smile as the kiss neared to an end._

 _"Hey, didn't you say she was napping?" he said, patting the bed beside him._

 _She laughed at his brazen suggestion. "Yes, but I have to-" He pulled her in for another kiss before she could finish. His hands strayed beneath the folds of her robe, his mouth soon following suit. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. She let herself fall into him, softly as a raindrop, and together they sank back onto the bed._

 _And for a time-the very last time-all was right with their world._

* * *

Riker waited at a table in Ten Forward. He looked at the clock impatiently. Forty-six minutes had gone by. Doubt tugged at the commander's confidence. Perhaps his tone had not struck the chord he'd hoped for after all.

"Expecting someone?" Counselor Troi slid into the seat across from him, a mug of Jestral tea warming her hands. She flashed the commander an amicable smile.

"Yeah, but it doesn't look like they're going to show."

Troi lifted her mug and blew gently across its surface. A wisp of steam curled away from little waves that rippled in the wake of her breath. She took a sip and then studied the disappointment on his face. "Carmen?" she guessed astutely.

Riker nodded, taking a drink from his own glass. "Have you tried to see her yet? Since we got back?"

She shook her head. "I didn't want to pressure her. I thought it best to give her some space."

"No," the commander insisted. "She doesn't need space. She needs _supervision_ -and to lay off the alcohol."

Troi's eyebrows shot up. "Alcohol? Where did she get alcohol from?"

"The replicator in her quarters. She called it a trick." Riker huffed out an exasperated sigh.

The counselor shrugged. "It's a coping mechanism. No doubt she's had to come up with a few."

"No, no-don't make excuses for her. She's proven herself perfectly capable of handling stressful situations."

"But what about normal situations?" Troi stared at him over the top of her tea. The commander leaned back, draping one arm across the chair.

"Hmph," was all he said.

Then the cafe doors opened. Both of their heads turned automatically. A young woman walked in, glancing about with nervous blue eyes. Her raven-dark hair fell in a single braid down her back. She clutched at the side of her uniform as she waited by the counter for Guinan to take her order.

Riker laughed under his breath. He brought his glass up to try and mask it, but Troi noticed anyways. She sent him a quizzical look. "What is it?"

"It's just-she seemed more comfortable in a Klingon prison!"

After a few moments, Carmen turned away from the counter with a clear glass in hand. She made her way towards Riker's table, eying the other patrons warily. Troi rose as soon as she approached.

"Is that a Samarian Sunset?" she asked, nodding towards Carmen's drink.

"What? Oh, yes it is."

"Ever had one before?"

"No."

"Oh, but they're delicious! You'll see. Here, you can have my seat-" She gestured towards the chair, removing her own cup from the table.

Carmen hesitated. "No," she said. "I mean, it's...it's okay. You don't have to leave. Because of me, that is." She set her drink down at the end of the table and pulled out a chair. Troi cast the commander a quick smile, then sat back down.

"So what's so special about these, anyways?" Carmen asked, wholly unimpressed with her Samarian Sunset.

"Tap the glass," Riker prompted.

"Why?"

"I said tap the glass," he repeated, a little more gruffly this time. She rolled her eyes, but obeyed. _Clink_ went the glass. Soon, streaks of yellow and orange appeared within the liquid. They reached for one another, and everywhere they touched, the drink transformed into something new that blazed bright as a fire within the cup. Carmen lit up with delight.

"I've never seen anything like this before!" The amazement on her face made her appear suddenly child-like. Riker chuckled softly, appreciating the change. "Will it work again?" She tapped the glass several more times.

"No, no. Now you're supposed to drink it," Riker instructed. Carmen nodded, mildly disappointed that it was over, and brought the drink to her lips.

Troi waited for the young woman's reaction with a lingering smile. "Well? What do you think?"

"Hey, that's...that's pretty good!" Carmen immediately took another sip. Then a few more. Then she tilted the glass up, gulping it down with gusto.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down!" the commander laughed. He took the drink from her hand and set it back on the table. "Gotta learn how to pace yourself."

She wiped a sleeve across her mouth with a sheepish grin. "I have to admit...this tastes a lot better than bloodwine."

The commander grunted approvingly. " _Now_ you're talking."

A round of laughter passed between all three of them. As it did so, Carmen could feel faint traces of something gentle, something peaceful, seeping into her mind like tendrils of fog around a slightly ajar door.

"Hey Carmen?" Troi asked after their laughter trickled off. "Would it be alright...may I ask you something?"

The young woman's smile sobered. She gripped her drink as if it would fly out of her hand. "Yes," she finally said.

A proud smile pulled at the corner of Riker's mouth. It had taken guts for Carmen to utter that single word.

"When we first met, how come you didn't recognize me? How come...of all the memories that I saw, I never saw one of your mother?"

"Because I never knew her," Carmen replied. "Something happened to her when I was just a baby."

"But your dad-he didn't keep any pictures around?" Riker interjected, leaning forward to rest both of his elbows on the table.

Carmen winced. "No. He...he rarely talked about her. I always assumed that maybe it was too painful for him."

"You don't know then? How she died?" Troi asked.

"She didn't die." The young woman shifted in her seat, fighting the instinct to shut down the conversation that prodded her in wounded places. "And once Picard told me what happened, I realized...I realized that my dad had just been trying to protect me."

Riker felt his stomach flutter, suddenly nervous as well. "Protect you from what? What happened?"

Carmen took a deep breath, summoning the courage to revive those painful, distant memories. "It was a diplomatic mission on some planet somewhere, I don't even know the name. She was only supposed to be gone for a few days. But when the Enterprise returned, there was nothing left. No bodies, nothing. It was years before they understood why-why they don't leave any bodies behind."

"They?" Troi inquired.

"The Borg. See, my father didn't want me to be able to recognize my mother. In case she ever...came back."

"I don't understand." Riker pushed his drink aside and laced his fingers together.

"They call it 'assimilation,'" she explained. "It means they make you part of the Collective. They make you part of the enemy."

"What if you refuse? What if you resist?"

A chilling smile crept across her face. "Resistance is futile, commander," she said. "Nobody knew how much was ever left-of the host's mind, I mean. Our people could never study them close enough. Picard always insisted that they could be saved. That one day, we'd find a way to change them back. But once Earth had been assimilated...resources became more important than research."

Something cold settled over Riker and Troi as they envisioned mankind being swept to the edge of extinction.

"The council created a refuge on some distant planet. Named it Haven One," Carmen continued. "They hand-picked its inhabitants, and considered the rest of us-mostly orphans-expendable. We were left behind to fight for a lost cause. To fight for a home we'd never see."

All around Ten Forward, patrons continued with their merry-making. But the music, the laughter-it was a world away for the three sitting at a small table in the back.

"I'm sorry, Carmen," Riker said after a time. "I...I didn't know." A turbulent sea of emotions churned within his gut-anger, compassion, remorse, outrage. He could only imagine the violence of the storm within Carmen.

The young woman cleared her throat. "Do you think I could have another Samarian Sunset?" she asked, weary from her tale. Her eyes pleaded to be finished.

Troi nodded sympathetically. "Yes. And I think I'll have one, too. I'll be right back." She stood, letting out a breath as if she had been holding it in her chest for a while, and then made her way through the scattered crowds.

Carmen watched her back receding from view. It was then she caught sight of a structure near the center of the room. A number of checkered boards jutted out from a glass spine, each one a different height. "Hey is that tri-dimensional chess?" she asked the commander.

His face brightened. "Yeah-ever play?"

"Well, not to brag, but I was reigning champion for awhile."

"You're going to have to prove it," he declared, a devious smile twisting his lips. "How about right now?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "But I promise to take it easy on you. Wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your peers."

"Ha!" Riker climbed out of the booth, but froze suddenly when the lights dimmed. Red, flashing ones took their place. Klaxons sounded an ominous warning.

Carmen leapt to her feet, adrenaline surging through her veins. "Red alert? Why are we on red alert?" She inched closer to the commander.

He stared up at the lights and squared his jaw. "I don't know. But stay here-"

"Stay here? Why? Where are you going?"

"Deanna and I have to go to the bridge." He gripped her shoulders tightly. "Stay here, Carmen. Do you understand? That's an order."

"No-don't go. _Please_."

The commander paused. He wasn't sure he had ever heard her use that word before. "It's alright, Carmen. You'll be safe here."

"But you-"

"There isn't time. Now promise me you'll stay until we get back."

Carmen swallowed. The seconds pounded away like beats of a hammer. "Fine," she conceded. "I promise."

"I _will_ be back. Okay?" With that, he hurriedly withdrew from her midst. Carmen watched as the counselor joined him near the door. Troi cast her one final, apologetic glance through the crowd. And then she and Riker disappeared.

Carmen was alone once again.


	24. Asylum

Just as Riker stepped off the turbolift, his heart leapt into his throat. A massive, green-tinted battle cruiser soared across the viewscreen. "A Romulan Warbird?"

"Yes," Picard answered, not removing his eyes from the screen.

"What is it doing in Federation space?" Riker and Troi took up their posts alongside the captain.

"Pursuing one of its own. He said his name is Officer Setal, and he has requested asylum."

The Warbird's disruptor cannons glowed hot green as they erupted. Two blasts hurtled towards a small, fleeing scoutship.

" _Please_ -" A ragged voice came through an open channel. " _You must help me! They will kill me!_ "

"Counselor?" The captain looked questioningly to Troi.

She nodded gravely. "He is full of fear. I believe he is telling the truth, sir."

"Very well." Picard turned to the viewscreen once more. "We are almost within range," he answered the Romulan. "Maintain your course and power."

But a new blast from the disruptor cannons found its target. The small ship veered dangerously to the side.

"A successful hit," Data reported. "The scoutship's engines are inoperative. Shields down."

"Move to within five kilometers," the captain ordered, a note of urgency entering his voice. "And Mr. La Forge-prepare to extend our shields around the Romulan scoutship."

Troi glanced at the commander with a hint of apprehension. He nodded reassuringly.

"We have the scoutship, sir," La Forge responded after a few moments.

"Full stop!" Picard moved closer to the view screen, his nerves steeled.

The Enterprise hovered protectively over the wounded ship. It stood unflinchingly in the battle cruiser's path. To Riker's relief, it slowed its approach.

"The weapons on the Warbird are fully powered, sir," Worf reported from his tactical station.

"Lock phasers then. And open a channel."

"Ready," the Klingon responded.

Picard cleared his throat. "Romulan vessel, you are in Federation territory. Unless you withdraw-" He paused, mouth still ajar. For the Warbird turned away without a peep, retreating back towards Romulan space.

"No argument?" Riker scoffed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Sir-" It was Data. "All systems on the scoutship have reached critical levels. Including life support."

Picard took a deep breath as he watched the Warbird fade from view. "Transporter Two," he said with a tap of his combadge. "Beam the scoutship's occupant directly aboard."

"Yes sir," came the reply.

"Mr. Worf, he is in your custody. Number One, I want you to go with him. Take the Romulan immediately to sickbay. I'll meet you there."

* * *

Riker leaned against the wall as Dr. Crusher examined her newest patient. The Romulan watched him in return, flinching now and again as Crusher found each new wound. Two ridges ran parallel to his eyebrows, from the bridge of his nose up into his jet black hairline. Dark blood stained his orange-hued skin as it seeped from a gash on the side of his neck.

"I must speak with your leaders immediately," Setal insisted.

"Our captain will be here shortly-"

"Not your captain. I need to go higher than that."

"You will have to make do." Riker maintained a stern and steady gaze.

Just then someone burst into the sickbay, pushing against a line of security like a surge of water against a dam. "Is the commander in there? Is he alright? Let me through!" Carmen's voice rose sharply.

Riker rushed over. "Carmen! What are you doing here?"

Her face flooded with relief at the sight of him. But instantly, her relief turned into embarrassment. "I just...I had to make sure…"

"I told you to wait in Ten Forward! Not only did you break your promise, but this is a serious breach of protocol," he lectured.

Behind them, Dr. Crusher scolded the patient. "Would you try and hold still? I'd be finished by now if you'd just quit squirming."

Carmen's eyes automatically went towards her voice. When they landed on Setal, they blazed with rage. "YOU!" she roared, rushing for the unsuspecting Romulan.

Riker made a desperate grab, snatching the back of her collar at the last second and jerking her back. "Hey, _hey_! What's gotten into you?"

She thrashed in his grip like a scruffed wildcat. "Let me go! Let me at him! _Dor'sho'gha_!" Her snarling dissolved into a string of Klingon expletives.

Setal sprang from the cot, much to the doctor's chagrin. "What is going on?" he demanded. Worf stepped in front of him.

"None of your concern. Sit down again," he ordered.

"Knock it off, I said!" Riker shouted, managing at last to restrain the young woman.

"But it's him! He destroyed my ship!"

Worf and the doctor turned a surprised eye to the Romulan, who looked just as confused-and offended as well. "What is she going on about? Why would I do such a thing?"

"Because of Toleel-because he-" She stopped suddenly, as if coming to a realization.

The Romulan's face hardened. " _What do you know of my son_?" he hissed, lunging for her. Worf threw up an arm, holding him back.

But she welcomed the attempt, surging towards him anew. A handful of security officers came to Worf and Riker's aid, trying desperately to keep the Romulan and the young woman apart.

"That's enough!" Picard's voice bellowed above the fray.

Carmen fell back, and slowly the scene returned to order. But her gaze remained fixed on the Romulan as though she could kill him with just a look. Every panting breath came out sounding like a low growl.

"You are captain of this ship?" Setal tried to step towards Picard, but Worf continued to hold him back.

"I am."

"Can you communicate with any leaders of the Federation?"

"I have the means, yes. In fact, I have already notified them of your rescue."

"I must speak with them," the Romulan pressed.

"You will speak with us first."

"Please. It is a matter of life and death." His ominous words echoed in the ears of his listeners.

"For whom?" Picard's eyes narrowed as he studied Setal's countenance.

"For all of us."

An uneasy murmur flitted around the room. Carmen's fury intensified. Riker tightened his grip on her arm as a silent warning.

"Then out with it," Picard demanded. "I will relay the message myself."

Setal licked his lips nervously. "Not like this. Let me wash and eat first."

"Very well." Picard turned to the Klingon. "Worf, arrange quarters for our guest. And I want a security detail assigned at all times."

"Yes, sir."

" _Guest_?" Carmen spat.

"And as for you-" Picard whirled on the young woman, the lines of his face taut with aggravation. "I will have you taken back to the brig if you cannot control yourself. You will act like a Starfleet officer while you are aboard my ship. Understood?"

Carmen cringed at the rebuke. "Yes, sir," she mumbled, turning her reddened face to the floor. She stood silently and respectfully in place as Worf carried out his orders, followed by the security team.

"Number One-" Picard addressed the commander next. "As soon as Worf is done, we need to have a meeting about how to proceed."

"Yes, sir. I'll call it."

Picard nodded and then withdrew from their company. Only Carmen and Riker remained.

"Where is Deanna?" she asked, finally noting the counselor's absence.

"She went to Ten Forward, looking for you."

"Oh."

Riker blew out an angry sigh. "You promised to wait, Carmen."

"But you don't understand. He killed them all-"

"Not here! It's _you_ who doesn't understand! This is not your Enterprise. None of that happened here." Carmen's face flushed. Riker turned away hastily, lest it make him forget his irritation. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to arrange."

"Commander-wait. Please."

He froze. There was that word again.

"What happened?" she asked, taking a tentative step towards him. "Aren't Romulans your enemy?"

"They are."

"Then why-"

"He was under attack, okay? His vessel was nearly destroyed by a Warbird."

"A Warbird? But why would they go after another Romulan?"

"That's what we need to find out."

"What about the Neutral Zone? Is that still in place?"

"Yes. When we informed them that they were in violation, they turned around and left."

"Just like that? Isn't that a little suspicious?"

Riker sighed again. "Of course it is. But do you remember what I said? About members of the Enterprise? We help those in need. Even Romulans, on occasion."

He turned to leave once more.

"Well can I be there when you question him?" she asked, hurrying to keep up.

"What for?"

"Let me be of some help. Maybe I can tell you if he's lying-"

"You said you didn't use your empathic abilities, remember?" he interrupted. "Besides, we have Deanna for that. We don't need you."

Carmen halted. Riker came to a stop as well, struck with a sudden pang of guilt. An aggrieved silence filled the hall.

"Look…" he said at last. "It's up to the captain, anyways. But...I'll see what I can do."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks again for all the comments and reads! It seriously blows my mind that anybody is interested in my work haha. You guys really do keep me going, I mean it when I say that!**

 **Also, Setal's character is not my own creation. He is from an actual episode, and I borrowed some dialogue from the scene on the bridge. Setal's episode, in my opinion, had some of the show's best dialogue that really stuck with me. So I plan on weaving it into future chapters with him as well. But I'll always give a heads up like this, I won't try to pass it off as my own. If you happen to remember the episode, I am planning on changing a few fundamentally important details to fit my own purposes. So hopefully you don't see where I am going, lol.**

 **To Gayle in the comments (and everyone else, actually)-The answer is yes! I will most definitely finish this story. My husband has accused me of being a "completionist." I get determined (obsessed, really) when I start something. I hate leaving anything undone. After this "episode" I have outlines for at least two other episodes, using the same characters and events that have been established. They will be more stand-alone type adventures, though, not harping on any major themes. Then I will be returning to the overarching plot in the grand finale. Anyways,I hope you keep reading!**


	25. The Scoutship

Lieutenant Laforge stood near one of the tall windows in the briefing room, tapping his foot with bated excitement. He gazed raptly at the listing Romulan scoutship.

"I can't wait to get over there," he said to Counselor Troi, who sat with her arms folded along the tabletop nearby.

"He looks like a little boy on Christmas Eve," Dr. Crusher teased. She sat across from the counselor, one knee crossed over the other. Troi laughed in agreement.

Commander Riker couldn't help but chuckle as well. "Yeah, the kind of boy whose Christmas list has duilitic converters on it!"

Both women laughed again. Laforge grinned good-naturedly at his shipmates. "Come on, think about it! A chance to finally see Romulan technology up close!"

The briefing room doors swished open just then. All heads turned to their captain as he strode to the front of the table. Picard placed his hands on the back of a chair, but did not take a seat.

"Mr. Laforge, I assume you'd like a closer look at that scoutship?"

"Yes, sir," came the eager reply.

Picard smiled fondly at him. "I thought so. I need you to lead an away team as soon as this meeting is adjourned. Commander-" His eyes shifted to Riker. "In the meantime, I want you and Counselor Troi to question Setal further. See what he will divulge before we reach council headquarters."

"Sir, about that…" Riker cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "Carmen has uh, requested permission to observe his interrogation. She knows him; thinks she can be of some help."

Picard arched an eyebrow. "She knows him? Not in a friendly way, I take it."

The doctor clicked her tongue. "Not at all. In fact, she said he destroyed her ship."

"Destroyed her ship?" Laforge echoed. "You mean the other Enterprise?"

Crusher nodded.

The lieutenant whistled soft and low. "Yeah, I wouldn't be too happy to see him again, either. But wait-isn't Setal just a low-level officer? Could she be mistaken?"

"No, I don't believe so," Riker cut in. "She mentioned somebody else-Toleel, I think? He recognized the name."

The captain breathed out slowly, pensively. "Counselor, I am in need of your insight," he said, turning his attention to Troi. "Carmen has proven to be rather...unpredictable."

"She spent her formative years in battle, sir. Alongside Klingons, nonetheless. The hostility, the aggression...it is how she learned to survive."

"Can she adapt, though?" He fixed his eyes on Troi with that unflinching gaze of his. But behind his eyes, and behind his words, the counselor sensed a dignified plea for affirmation.

"Yes, sir," she said, firmly resolute. "I believe she will make good on the chance you have given her. Once she's had time to properly mourn-"

"Setal said that his message was a matter of life and death. I don't know how much time I can give her." Picard rubbed at his jaw. "Counselor, I need to know-do you think it prudent, to have her present during the interrogation?"

Troi held fast. "I do, sir. Setal was certainly hiding something. The more we have on him, the better."

Picard mused over her assessment in somber silence. "Very well then," he finally conceded. "Make it so."

Just as he was about to adjourn the meeting, a ball of flames erupted outside of the briefing room windows. Laforge scrambled to his feet, staring at the sudden destruction with his mouth agape.

"The scoutship!" he cried.

But every last piece had been consumed in the blast. It wasn't long before the dark fabric of space seeped in to fill the void, making it appear as though the scoutship had never even existed.


	26. In the Silence

Picard made his way towards Main Engineering, attempting to sort through the clutter of thoughts in his head. As the hallway angled off to the right, he caught a glimpse of a young woman sitting on a platform at the far end. Just who he was looking for.

The platform was more of a landing, with a narrow set of stairs leading off to one side. Her legs swung over the edge and her arms rested across a lower railing. Screeching, mechanical noises drifted up from below, assaulting the captain's ears. But she leaned her head against her arms as though she were listening to more pleasant sounds.

"Miss Riker," he said, coming to a stop a few paces away. "May I have a word, please?"

She gave a slight jump. The noises must have masked his footsteps. But once she recognized his voice, she hastened to her feet. "Captain," she nodded.

Carmen awaited his message with her chin held high and her shoulders pulled back in a show of respect. Picard marveled at the way she possessed his first officer's lofty composure, his commanding air. Her blue eyes glinted with the same steel as well.

"Wouldn't your quarters be more comfortable?" He gestured towards the landing. Her gaze automatically followed.

"Yes, sir. It's just that…" She trailed off, then cleared her throat and shifted her attention back to the captain. "Yes, sir."

Picard tilted his head. "It's just what?"

She blew out a sigh. "Well, I used to come here all the time. Back on my Enterprise, I mean. It was the only place I could get some sleep."

"What, with all this racket?"

"Yes, sir." Something bitter seeped into her gaze. "Silence can be loud, too."

"Ah." Picard nodded gently, Troi's words coming to mind. He turned back towards the hall and motioned for her to follow. She fell into step at his side.

Picard took a deep breath, letting his eyes wander into the distance. "We who have seen war, will never stop seeing it," he quoted. "In the silence of the night, we will always hear the screams. So this is our story, for we were soldiers once, and young." He looked down at the raven-haired woman with a kind, sympathetic smile. "Joe Galloway. Ever read his works?"

Carmen shook her head, the words still resounding in her ears. "No, sir. What ship did he serve on?"

Picard chuckled softly at her question. "He lived on Earth, a long time ago. Before there were spaceships."

"Oh."

"You should give him a try. He wrote about a war in which many young men were forced to fight. Times were different then, but hearts...men's hearts are still just as fragile, aren't they?"

Carmen felt suddenly as though she knew this stranger. It was the captain she remembered as a child, the one who had let her hide in his ready room after the funeral as he rifled through his books, pretending not to notice. The one who withheld his rebuke when she was frightened. The one who made her feel less of an orphan.

She didn't realize she had stopped walking until Picard placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, surprised.

"Counselor Troi, she really believes in you."

"Yes, sir," Carmen replied, not adding anything else.

"I hope that you can believe in her, too," he said, a sternness underscoring his voice. "You don't have to fight alone here."

He turned and continued down the hall. Grateful tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them back, trying her hardest to keep them at bay. A wave of guilt washed over her as an image flashed in her mind. She could see Toleel bent over Picard's lifeless body, crumpled on the brig floor.

"Captain-there's-there's something you should know," she blurted out.

"It will have to wait," he said, stopping in front of the turbolift. "It's time to get on with the interrogation. Coming?"

"The interrogation?" She had momentarily forgotten all about it.

"Yes. The commander informed me that you wish to be present during Setal's questioning."

Her face changed abruptly. Picard paused, scrutinizing her bewilderment.

"Perhaps...he misunderstood?"

"No, no, I do want to, sir...but...why did you call him that?"

"Beg your pardon?" It was now Picard's turn to wear a look of confusion.

"Why did you call him Setal?"

Then it dawned on Picard. He shook his head with a mirthless smile. "That's not his name. Is it?"

"No, sir."

He mulled over this revelation for a moment. Then he drew close to the young woman, lowering his voice. "Who is he then? Who is he really?"


	27. Of Fathers and Heroes

"All you could see was the opportunity to exploit me," the Romulan spat. "But that is the Federation's creed, is it not? Exploitation!"

Carmen smiled bitterly. She leaned against the wall, half covered in shadow. Everything in the interrogation room was a lackluster gray, void of comfort or warmth. The only light hung above three seated figures, Riker and Troi on one side of a small table and the Romulan on the other.

He seemed to sense Carmen's sneer. His eyes latched onto her angrily. "What is she doing here, anyways?"

"She's none of your concern." Riker leaned forward, drawing the attention to himself. "Now again, why did you set your ship to self destruct?"

"Wouldn't you have done the same?" he retorted. "I couldn't leave her to be stripped down by your greedy hands, to be forced into yielding all of her secrets."

"Pardon me for being a little confused, but I thought you were defecting!" Riker's voice raised at his impertinence.

"I am no traitor!" The Romulan's voice rose as well. He leapt to his feet and glowered furiously at the commander. Carmen tensed. The veins on her arms jutted out as her hands clenched into fists.

 _No, Carmen_. The counselor's voice entered her thoughts. Bewildered, Carmen's attention left the Romulan and sought out Troi instead. She remained seated, but her head tilted ever so slightly to the side. _Let Will handle this_. The young woman's fists slowly uncurled.

Riker leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. "Is that word a little too bitter for your taste?" he taunted. "Well, loyalists don't ask for asylum. Now sit down."

The Romulan snarled, but obeyed. "Why do we waste time playing these games? I've told you: this is a matter of life and death. Let me speak with your leaders-"

"Why? You've given us nothing. No information, no reason to believe you at all."

"No reason to believe me?"

"You've already lied to us, Admiral Alidar."

The Romulan's eyes flew wide. "How-how do you know who I am?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It was _her_ , wasn't it?" He sprang to his feet again.

This time Riker followed suit, blocking Carmen from view. "I said sit down!" he barked.

Alidar huffed angrily. "She spoke my son's name, too. Have you taken him somehow? Have you done something to him?"

Carmen sucked in a sharp breath. Troi sensed a sudden flicker of pain. An image flashed before her, one that Carmen had not meant to send. A Romulan boy lay on the brig floor beside Captain Picard. Both bodies gaped upward with cold, lifeless eyes.

"You are the only Romulan we have. Now I won't ask you again- _sit down!_ "

Alidar eyed the commander, sizing him up. Then, thinking twice, he cast off his bellicose air and took a seat. "Tell me-do _you_ have a son?"

Riker eased himself into his own chair. "No."

"A daughter? A wife, even?"

"Again, no."

"Then you have sacrificed too much for your career."

Riker's composure faltered, an effect that surprised the other people in the room. "This isn't about me, Alidar," he deflected.

"It is about all of us!" The Romulan's voice strained with something dire. "But I am a father, you see. _I_ know the sacrifices that will have to be made if you do not help me stop this."

"Stop _what_?"

"War!"

Alidar's last word echoed across the chamber and into the reaches of Carmen's heart.

"The humiliating defeat of the Battle of Cheron has not been forgotten," he continued, "Our new leaders are young, zealous. They intend to reclaim the Neutral Zone."

"Is that so?" Riker scoffed. "You come seeking peace, then? I find that highly unlikely. I've heard of your part in the Norkan Massacres."

"Exactly why I chose to be called Setal." Alidar smiled contemptuously. But Troi's gaze softened, for she could sense that his contempt was not meant for the commander. "What you call the Norkan Massacres, we call the Norkan Campaigns. I was merely doing what the High Command asked of me. One world's butcher is another world's hero."

Carmen looked away, hating the very sight of him. Hating every word he spoke. But most of all, hating the way she _understood_.

"That's what you fancy yourself? A hero?" Riker leaned over the table in a menacing manner.

"No. I am neither a butcher nor a hero." Weariness crept into the Romulan's face. "I am just a father who will never see his son again."

Carmen's chest began to heave. Troi turned in her chair, concerned. But Riker pressed on. "What would you have me do? Accuse your leaders of this without any evidence?"

"More than that! You must go to Nelvana III-see it for yourself."

"Nelvana III? That's in the Neutral Zone!"

"Yes. It is there that they are rallying for their first assault. Within five weeks' time, they will be ready. You must heed my warning, commander. Or neither side will have a future-my _son_ will not have a future. Ignore me, and you sentence him to death!"

"Carmen!" Troi leapt from her chair suddenly. Riker spun around, expecting to see the counselor holding her back. But Carmen was not charging at them. She was sinking to the floor. It was as though her knees had simply given out. Her head hit the ground with a heavy thud that reverberated in stunned silence.

Troi reached her a second too late. Gingerly, she lifted her limp body onto her lap and then looked back at the commander. "We have to get her out of here, Will."

* * *

 ***There are several lines of dialogue in this chapter that are straight from the show, namely the first line and the butcher and hero line**


	28. Doubts

**A/N: Angel897-You are the best! Thanks for always reading :-)**

* * *

 _"You surprised me, Number One," Wharton said, glancing sideways at the young woman to his right. The bridge had finally returned to an orderly state. Its new captain sat smugly at the helm, not a single sandy-colored hair on his head out of place. His hulking form made the chair appear absurdly small. "I had my doubts, but you did a magnificent job. Especially with Laforge and Picard."_

 _She did not answer, but stared glumly at the viewscreen instead. Somehow, the stars seemed dimmer than before._

 _"Riker? Come on, then. You'll get over it."_

 _"It doesn't bother you?" she said suddenly. "You served with Picard ever since my father died. It doesn't bother you, what we just did?"_

 _"He was a sentimental fool. Always living in the past."_

 _"Might as well," she retorted. "Not like there's a future anymore."_

 _"Don't be so melodramatic. You're looking at the future now, from that chair. Isn't it everything you wanted?"_

 _Carmen's hand brushed the side. "It's just a chair."_

 _"It was your father's chair. Shame he isn't here to see you now."_

 _She shut her eyes tightly as if to hide from the thought. "No. I'm glad he isn't."_

 _"Sir-" Ensign Adler interrupted their exchange. He sat at navigation, a curly crop of dark hair hanging over his forehead. The sleeves of his uniform hung from his arms, a size too large. It was a common problem for the smaller, younger boys of the draft. He turned to face Carmen and Wharton, his green eyes hardened and weary despite the youthful curve of his cheek._

 _"What is it?"_

 _"A Class B Warbird has entered sensor range. They are making straight for us."_

 _"What?!" Wharton scrambled to his feet._

 _"At their current speed, they will reach us in just thirteen min-" A beeping on his console made Adler pause. "Sir, they are hailing us."_

 _Wharton's brows drew together. He rubbed at his chin, quickly contemplating. "Go ahead. Put it through. But audio only."_

 _An expectant hush fell over the bridge. Carmen stood up slowly, the anticipation building in her chest._

 _"This is Admiral Alidar. Come in, Captain Picard. Are you there? I'll be at the coordinates you provided in-"_

 _Wharton slammed a finger onto the console, ending the connection. "That bastard!" he roared. "That-I can't believe-" He sputtered in rage. "He has been conspiring with the Romulans all this time!" Adler shrank away. Wharton was a large man, a capable man. Many of the younger ensigns feared his very shadow._

 _But soon, a grim, quiet determination replaced the rage on his face. He stalked towards the turbolift without another word, muscles tensing and rippling beneath his uniform. All eyes turned to Carmen as the doors closed behind him._

 _"What-what do we do?" Adler squeaked._

 _"It's alright, Adler," Carmen said, her words gentle but her voice stern. "Stay the course. Do not answer any more hails. Holt, divert all energy to the shields."_

 _"Aye aye," Holt replied from tactical._

 _"Wait-what are you going to do?" Adler called as she headed towards the turbolift._

 _She paused, looking back over her shoulder. "I'm not sure yet."_

* * *

 _"You! Stand up!" The brig filled with Wharton's thunderous voice._

 _Picard lifted his head, scowling. "I do not take orders from you, Wharton."_

 _The enormous man pushed a guard out of the way and disabled the electrostatic wall. "I said stand up!" He grabbed the front of Picard's uniform and dragged him to his feet. But out of seemingly nowhere, someone leapt onto Wharton's back. Their arms snaked around his massive throat, trying to close._

 _Wharton roared and slammed his attacker against a wall. They crumpled to the ground with a groan. The Starfleet officer turned. There, at the base of the wall, lay an adolescent Romulan boy._

 _"Toleel, no!" Two other Romulans rushed to the boy's aid. One was ancient looking, with snow white hair and sunken, leather cheeks. The other was younger, but stlll past his prime. He had a crop of faded black hair and one arm tied up in a sling. Before they could reach their companion, someone flew into their path._

 _"Keep back," Carmen warned. She knew that neither of them would last very long against a man like Wharton. She had interfered more for their protection than his._

 _Toleel cowered beneath Wharton's angry, looming figure. The Romulan was only slightly younger than Carmen, but he was not a trained soldier-that much she could tell. He wouldn't last very long, either._

 _To Carmen's relief, Wharton turned his anger on her. "Care to explain why these pieces of Romulan scum are still sitting aboard my ship?"_

 _"Your ship?" Laforge scoffed. He had come to Picard's side and wrapped a supportive, protective arm around his back._

 _Wharton ignored him. "Answer, Riker!"_

 _"They might be more valuable to us alive-"_

 _"You had a direct order!" Wharton fumed. "And NO Romulan's life is valuable!"_

 _"They aren't hurting anything-"_

 _"I've seen your record, remember?" he sneered, cutting her off again. "You've killed plenty of Romulans! What makes these any different?"_

 _Carmen looked at the boy. He hid beneath his arms, quaking with fear. "They are defenseless. There is no honor in this."_

 _"Honor?" Wharton laughed stridently. "Do you hear yourself? What do you think you are, Klingon? You are a traitor, Riker! You've already lost your honor!"_

 _Carmen winced with shame. As she lowered her face, unable to reply, she found Picard staring mournfully back at her. "No more, Wharton," he said. "No more children have to be lost to this war." His voice, normally steady and dignified, trembled on the verge of breaking. His eyes glistened with an apologetic sort of anguish._

 _Wharton clicked his tongue, refusing to engage the former captain. "Let me put it this way for you, Riker…" He crossed the floor with two long strides, coming to a stop before the conflicted young woman. "You finish the job, or I'll make sure you never set foot on the Enterprise again."_

 _The room began to spin. At least that's what it felt like. Carmen's mind raced. She had done everything-even betrayed her captain-just to be home again. Could she let it all be in vain?_

 _"What's the hold up?" Wharton shoved his phaser into her hand when she did not draw hers. "Get on with it! Now!"_

* * *

Carmen bolted upright with a gasp, the memories still fresh as a bleeding wound. Commander Riker nearly fell out of his chair at her bedside. "Whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed. "Calm down, it's alright!"

She blinked at him several times, her eyes wide and confused. Her bottom lip trembled slightly.

"Carmen?" he prompted, a little gentler. Deep lines of concern ran across his forehead. "What's wrong?"

She blinked again, her color and senses beginning to return. "N-nothing. Where are we?"

"Sickbay. You collapsed back there, during the interrogation. Remember? Dr. Crusher thinks it was some kind of shock." Riker pulled his chair closer and lowered his voice. "Is it what Alidar said? About...about war and all that?"

Movement behind the commander drew Carmen's eyes up. Members of Crusher's staff bustled about, tending to their duties. The low murmur of chatter drifted to her ears. Everything seemed calm, orderly. She sank back against the pillow, soothed of that which had gripped her in the interrogation room. Then she nodded, a quiet, humble admission that pulled at the commander's heartstrings.

"Well don't worry," Riker assured. "We aren't even sure if he's telling the truth. It's always a game when it comes to Romulans."

"But...Jarat…"

"Jarat?" he repeated, taken aback. "What about him?"

Carmen stared at him dolefully. "Why does this keep happening? Is war...is it just following me?"

"You think this is all your fault?" Riker shook his head with a dismissive laugh. "Come on. You take too much responsibility for other people's actions, and not enough for your own."

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. But it made the commander smile to see Carmen looking more like her normal, defiant self.

"We're going to get to the bottom of this, okay? And we'll be at council headquarters soon enough; they'll help us make a decision. It's going to be alright, you'll see."

Her glare subsided. "I hope you're right," she mumbled, drawing up her feet to sit cross-legged on the cot. She sighed heavily. "Hey, so um...were you telling the truth back there?"

"When?" Riker cocked his head to the side.

"When Alidar asked if you had a family."

"What do you mean? You know I don't have any children."

"But what about Deanna? You guys aren't…you know..."

"Married? No, no." He leaned back in his chair as if to put distance between himself and the question.

"Oh," she said, finding herself strangely disappointed. "I just assumed...I mean, it seems you spend a lot of time together."

Riker pulled at the hem of his uniform and cleared his throat. "Well, we uh...we used to have something. But that was a long time ago."

"You did?" She perked up once more. "What happened?"

He shrugged defensively. "It didn't work out."

"Why not?"

The commander threw her a playful scowl. "You seem awfully chatty for someone who once said talking is overrated."

"Hey, I've answered all of _your_ questions," she pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah you have. Okay, well...we just...we had different futures in mind, I guess."

"Apparently not." Carmen smirked at him. "Seeing how you both ended up on the Enterprise."

Riker drummed his hand along the side of his chair, staring off in thought. "That's... yeah, that's true I guess."

She leaned forward eagerly. "So have you two ever-"

"What is this, another interrogation?" He laughed, hoping it didn't sound too forced.

But if it did, then Carmen didn't notice, for she was laughing as well. And once again, Riker caught something child-like in the glow of her smile, a glimpse of some spark not extinguished by the war. It was the same spark he had seen during the Samarian Sunset's transformation. Only this time, it seemed a little brighter.

"Hey, by the way," he said, reminded of all that had transpired before the red alert. "I didn't hold up my end of the bargain, did I?"

"Bargain?"

"Yeah. You came to Ten Forward, had a Samarian Sunset. And I was supposed to fill you in on the rest of the deep, dark secrets you divulged thanks to the bloodwine."

She fixed her eyes on him, a sly sort of smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You know what I think? I think you were bluffing. I think you just wanted me to get out for a little bit."

"Oh yeah? Then how would I know that you used to play the trombone?"

The smugness evaporated from her face. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. Riker found himself revelling in the fact that it was her turn to squirm.

"You better not tell anyone," she growled.

"Sorry, but that wasn't part of the deal."

She took a playful swing at him. He deflected it easily. "Alright, alright," he conceded. "I won't tell anybody."

"You better not! What else did I say, then?"

He wavered for a moment. "Nothing. Nothing important, at least."

"You sure?" She squinted her eyes with a scrutinizing sort of look that Troi had worn on occasion.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he insisted, inwardly glad that she was out of touch with her empathic abilities. Then he glanced behind him. "Hey, what do you say we get out of here? Picard's waiting for us to report. Unless…" He trailed off, suddenly hesitant.

"Unless what?"

"Deanna and I can handle it, if you'd rather rest some more." The concern returned to his forehead. He scanned her face as if looking for signs of frailty.

"I'm fine," she declared, swinging her feet to the floor before he could protest. "Now let's go."


	29. Ruminating

When Carmen and Riker reached the captain's ready room, they found Troi already inside. She smiled warmly at them from a gray sofa, a cup of tea halfway to her lips.

"Come in," the captain bade. Riker strode over to a chair in front of Picard's desk. Carmen hesitated, standing rigidly just inside the threshold.

 _Over here_. Troi set her tea down and patted the sofa beside her. Carmen accepted the invite with a grateful smile.

Meanwhile, Picard drew in a curt breath. "Counselor Troi has been updating me," he informed them. Carmen couldn't help but wonder if she told him about their discussion in Ten Forward as well. "What do you make of our Romulan visitor, Number One?"

"I think he spins one a hell of a tale," Riker scoffed.

Picard's eyebrow arched. "You do not believe him then?"

"No, sir. It's typical Romulan behavior. Everything they do is a ploy of some kind."

"A ploy to draw us into the Neutral Zone?"

"Exactly, sir. Then we would be the aggressors, and they would have a reason to respond in force."

Picard dwelt on the idea. "Yes, I see what you mean. Romulans have historically avoided attacking first. They prefer to test their enemy's resolve."

"In your history, perhaps." Carmen spoke up for the first time. Riker turned in his chair to study her.

"What are you saying? Did they start the war in your universe?"

She nodded. "Yes. They launched a large-scale assault across multiple sectors. The Enterprise was one of the ships they attacked that day. It...it happened just before my seventh birthday. Many looked back on it as the official start of the war."

Memories surged through Troi's mind. She felt Carmen's fear at the sight of a dead Romulan soldier lying near her father's feet. Then she felt a wave of comfort as her father held her securely in his arms, carrying her back to the safety of their quarters. Carmen laughed at something her father said while he poured hot cocoa into a couple of mugs. They played chess and kadis-kot and stayed up way too late.

Carmen stole a glance at Riker. His eyes were still on the captain as he sat there, oblivious to the ache in the young woman's heart. It made Troi's heart ache as well.

"Why?" Picard asked, bringing them both back to the present matter. "What would prompt them to make such a bold move?"

The memories faded from view. "A number of their outposts had been attacked," Carmen explained. "They blamed Starfleet, but...well, my father always maintained our innocence."

"And the Borg? When did they come in?" Picard's question confirmed that he and the counselor had discussed more than just the interrogation.

"There were rumors that _they_ were responsible for the destroyed Romulan outposts. But tensions were already so high between the Empire and the Federation…" Carmen shook her head. "Both sides leapt into war before realizing that something worse was on the horizon."

"Number One-did Alidar make any mention of something like that?"

"No, sir."

A small sigh of relief escaped Picard's lips. Then he turned to Troi, who was still steeped in Carmen's words. "Counselor, what are your thoughts? Did you sense any deception?"

Troi shook her head. "No. Not after we brought up his real identity."

Riker didn't seem to like her answer. "But remember how quickly that Warbird backed off?" he pointed out. "There's something else going on here. Could they just be using him?"

Picard's eyes drifted to the young woman. "Miss Riker?"

Carmen hesitated. "I don't know. But he meant what he said, about his son. As much as he hates the Federation, if he thought this would save Toleel…"

"You said that name in sickbay," Riker recalled. "How do you know this Toleel, anyways?"

Carmen tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. Her hands fidgeted on her lap.

"I felt it, as well-the love he has for his son," Troi interceded. "To come into Federation space, to risk never seeing him again...it doesn't make sense unless he was telling the truth."

Picard eyed the counselor, taking note of Carmen's relief. But Troi sent him a discreet look that made him decide against pressing the matter further. "Well the council is waiting on an update. It will be likely be my last report before we reach Earth."

Carmen stiffened. "We are that close?"

"Yes. And they are counting on your cooperation. I ask that you be forthcoming with them, when it is your turn."

"Yes, sir," she said, surprisingly amenable.

Picard nodded his approval. "That will be all. Dismissed."

Riker, Troi and Carmen filed out of the ready room together. Once they had returned to the main hall, Troi flashed the other two a rueful smile. "I have some appointments to keep, I'm afraid. But I'll see you later?" Carmen knew the question in her voice was intended for her.

"Oh, um...okay," she replied, not entirely sure if she liked the idea. The reminder of her own impending interrogation had unsettled the young woman. And while she could deflect the commander well enough, she could not hide from the intrusive nature of Troi's empathic connection.

The trio exchanged farewells and then the counselor took her leave. After she had departed down one of the halls that branched off to the right, Carmen looked up at Riker.

"Don't you ever work around here?" she quipped.

The commander feigned a scowl. "Keeping an eye on you _is_ work," he shot back. "But yes, I do have duties to attend to."

"Oh. Right now?"

Riker noticed her smile fade slightly. "Yeah. But I think I have time to walk you to Ten Forward first," he offered, starting down a brightly-lit hallway.

"Ten Forward? Why?" She jogged to keep up with each of his long-legged strides.

"One, because alone time doesn't suit you," he replied. "And two, because you need to brush up on your tri-dimensional chess skills. Did you know I've never lost a match?"

Her smile returned. "There's a first time for everything, commander. See, _I_ have never lost either."


	30. In a Way

**A/N: Sorry for the rapid pace of new chapters! I'll slow down now. Should probably focus on our basement anyways; still need to finish painting. It's just not as fun as writing! I really loved this chapter for some reason. I hope you enjoy reading it! We'll be seeing the council soon for those who have been waiting for that :-).**

* * *

Carmen finished off the last of her Samarian Sunset. It was her third one. Or was it her fourth? She pushed the glass away and then cast her gaze about the mildly populated room. A pleasant buzz of conversation and the occasional clatter of dishes filled Ten Forward. But everything looked slightly off to the young woman-the uniforms, the faces. It was like a dream where you think you're somewhere familiar, but all the details are wrong. She shifted her attention to the stars outside the window, then closed her eyes with a groan. Even they were strangers.

"Are you new here?"

Carmen opened her eyes. A young officer at a nearby table was looking back expectantly. He sat alone, same as Carmen. His chestnut brown hair, which matched his chestnut brown eyes, made a lazy attempt to curl.

Carmen sighed peevishly. "You could say that."

"I'm kind of new myself. Only been here eight months."

"Congratulations," she snapped.

His smile crumbled. "I didn't mean-I'm sorry. If I intruded." He looked down at a plate before him, which was covered in some sort of red sauce.

Carmen sighed again. He reminded her of some of the more sensitive recruits, the ones that never lasted long. The ones she had trained herself not to get attached to.

She looked over again, spying his supper. "What is that, gagh?"

"Gagh?" He blinked at her, confused.

"Your food."

"Oh. No, spaghetti."

"Oh. That...makes more sense."

He cracked a small smile. "You've eaten gagh before?"

"Plenty of times. It's good stuff; puts meat on your bones."

"Sure...yeah." He tried to be polite, but his face scrunched in bemusement.

A hush fell over the cafe just then. Everyone's eyes turned nervously to the door. Carmen whipped around, every muscle in her body tensing.

A Romulan walked in, his silver uniform out of place amongst the more primary Starfleet colors. Several officers shuffled out of the way as he moved towards the counter. Worf followed a few paces behind, maintaining his distance but keeping a sharp eye on his charge.

"I'm Ensign Sheppard by the way," the young officer continued, ignoring Ten Forward's new presence. "Allan Sheppard. What was your name?" Carmen nodded absent-mindedly and then rose from her seat.

* * *

Alidar found a somewhat secluded table in the back. He set a bright red drink down on its surface and pulled himself up with a weary sigh. Worf's shadow came to a stop nearby.

"Care for a drink, Mr. Worf?" he sneered.

The Klingon growled in return. "Consider yourself lucky, Romulan. Should you have come across a Klingon ship instead, you would be faring much differently. They do not take so kindly to spies."

Alidar laughed humorlessly. Then, as he brought his drink to his lips, he retorted something in Worf's native tongue.

"Say that again…" Worf dared. His fists clenched audibly.

"Your accent is impressive." Someone slid into the seat across from Alidar. "But as a Romulan might say, only a _veruul_ would use such language in public."

Alidar cocked a brow in surprise. "You!"

A young woman with ebony, braided hair stared evenly back at him. "What are you doing here, Alidar?"

He took another sip before answering. "I thought I'd find comfort in the view." He gestured towards the lofty windows. "But...these are not my stars. Even the heavens are denied me here." His lips twitched briefly into a snarl. Carmen fought against the solidarity his words inspired. "Anyways, you are wrong about me. Whatever you think I did to your ship, you are mistaken. I have been in a distant sector of Romulan space for the last twenty years."

"Then how did you come to know so much about what is going on in the Neutral Zone?"

Alidar snarled aloud this time. "The interrogation is over! And what good did it do? You people will never believe me. You are fools, the lot of you."

Worf growled a warning. But Carmen leaned brazenly forward, drawing herself close to the Romulan. " _I_ believe you."

Alidar studied the young woman warily, unable to decide if she was mocking him or not.

"Now answer me-how do you know of these things?" she pressed.

The Romulan shook his head with a click of his tongue. "I have seen it myself. Blueprints, timetables, communiques."

Worf straightened. Carmen exchanged a glance with him. "You have proof, then?"

"No. I have nothing but my word."

The Klingon snorted. "Convenient."

"Convenient?" Alidar echoed. " _None_ of this is convenient. Do you have any idea what I've sacrificed to be here? I will never again embrace my son! This is all I have to remember him by-" He held up a small, ornamental sphere clasped to his belt. "No...I will never again see the spires of my home, rising above the Apnex Sea at dawn. Never again see the firefalls of Gal Gath'thong, the peak of Krocton Mountain…" His voice resonated richly with pride. It moved the hearts of his listeners, begrudging as they were. Alidar stared into the distance as if he could see Romulus disappearing on the horizon. "Never again…"

Carmen looked away for the first time. Alidar noticed, and her reaction intrigued the Romulan. He sank back against his chair. "You know what I'm speaking of, don't you?"

She cleared her throat. "Of course not. I have never been to Romulus."

"I don't mean Romulus. I mean _home_." A bitter smile travelled across his lips. "You know what it's like, to miss a place that is part of you. Tell me, would you have given anything to go back?"

Carmen's silence answered for her. He nodded slowly. "Well _I_ can never go back. There is no future for me. And it will all be in vain if your captain does not listen."

Again, Alidar's words rang a bell of solidarity within the young woman. She watched as he reached for his drink, then stopped short. His nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Ah, why do I continue with this synthetic swill? Don't suppose your food terminals are capable of producing a good Romulan ale?"

"That would require us to know its molecular structure," Worf replied. "And as you are no doubt aware, our knowledge of anything Romulan is limited."

Alidar heaved out a sigh and shrugged. "The loss is yours."

Carmen chuckled softly. "It's not like it would do you any good. They look down on drinking anything stiff around here."

The Romulan studied her anew. "You are a peculiar one. What was it they called you...Carmen?"

She nodded.

"Well, Carmen, did you ever get to return?"

"What?"

"To your home."

She bit down on her lip. "In a way."

"Hmph." He drummed his fingers along the base of his glass, falling into pensive silence.

Her face changed all of a sudden, growing brighter with a small, devious smile that hid in the corner of her mouth. "What if...what if I could help _you_ return? In a way?"

Alidar balked. "You're not just peculiar. You're crazy."

"Come on," she urged, pushing away from the table. "I'll show you."

* * *

"How long will this take?" Alidar leaned against a wall, staring up at the ceiling out of boredom.

"Calm down, will you?" Carmen chided. Her fingers typed away inside a holodeck panel. Finally, they returned to her sides. "Okay, that should do it." She stepped back with a sharp nod.

"Do what?"

"You'll see. Now go through those doors. Worf, would you mind staying here?" The Klingon hesitated, but reluctantly agreed.

"Should I be watching my back?" Alidar quipped, eying her suspiciously.

"Don't worry. If I wanted to kill you, I'd do it from the front."

He grunted, then turned towards the doors. They swished open, and together they entered.

All of a sudden they were no longer on the Enterprise. A fragrant wind, delightfully cold, whipped past their noses. Their feet stood precariously on the edge of a cliff. A valley yawned below, breathing in the majestic, purple sky. Night stars reflected off the glassy surface of a lake, making it appear as though the valley wore a glittering, silver dress. And two moons, like a king and queen, reigned over it all amidst the regal glow of a nearby nebula.

The breath trembled in Alidar's chest. "This is the Valley of Chula! I know it well!" He reached out, feeling the air as if reaching for a lover's hand. Then, abruptly, his demeanor changed. "No...no. Take me away from here. Make it end. Make it go away."

Carmen's face wrenched in consternation. "Computer, end program," she called.

The mountains, the valley, the night sky-it all faded away. They found themselves standing in a black room instead, its walls and floor scored with ugly yellow lines.

"I'm sorry." Carmen closed her eyes, silently berating herself. She should have known better. It was like seeing the commander-his face, his expressions, it was all the same. But it wasn't the real thing.

Alidar turned and walked out of the room, his head hung low. But as he reached the doorway, he paused. "No...I am the one who is sorry." The doors closed behind him. Carmen remained in the empty darkness, alone yet again.


	31. A Long Day

Shift change drew near. Crews started rotating in and out of each station aboard the Enterprise. Riker left his command post on the bridge and headed to his quarters, his mind just as exhausted as his body. It had been a long day.

He changed into more comfortable clothes and then ran hot water at the sink. As he washed up, he found himself thinking about the interrogation. Carmen and Troi seemed convinced of Alidar's intentions, but how could the Federation have missed something like that? Surely their sensors would have picked up some kind of activity in the Neutral Zone.

His stomach growled loudly, pulling him away from his troubled thoughts. Riker realized just how hungry he was. He finished washing and then made his way into the kitchen area, opening a small cooling unit in search of something to cook. He could have used the replicator, but the commander was in need of more than just food at the moment. He needed a distraction.

A few Jibalian eggs did the trick. Rker cracked them over a stove and then turned towards a cupboard to retrieve an assortment of spices. _Dee-dum_ went his door chimes. A visitor? At this hour? Riker thought back to the last time his cooking was interrupted. He could still see Troi leaning towards him, something soft and eager in her eyes. His heart gave a thump at the memory. Perhaps she had come to finish their conversation.

"Come in!" he called, listening as the door opened and then closed. He continued to rifle through the cupboard and waited to catch a whiff of Troi's favorite perfume. But small, tentative steps approached instead. Riker turned, puzzled.

Carmen stood at the end of the counter. She held her hands in front of her and wrung them together nervously. "I...I'm sorry…I just couldn't...I didn't want to…" She tripped over her own tongue, blushing as a result.

"Carmen? Is something wrong?" Riker set the spices down and squinted at the young woman, studying her distress.

"I won't stay long. I promise. And I won't bother you."

"Bother me?"

"It's just...you were right. Alone time doesn't suit me."

The Jibalian eggs sizzled loudly, stealing Riker's attention away. He reached for a spatula and hastily pried them from the hot surface before they could burn. When he looked up again, Carmen was curling herself onto the seat of a small, padded chair. She kept her face towards the windows, away from Riker, but he noticed her shoulders give a shudder.

"Do you uh, do you wanna talk about it?" he asked gently.

"No."

"Okay then." With the edge of the spatula, Riker set about breaking up pieces of egg, scrambling them over the pan. "Well do you wanna eat?"

Her head tilted towards him slightly. After a few moments, she finally nodded. A small, sympathetic smile flickered across the commander's face. It had been a long day for her, too.

Once the eggs were done, he scraped them onto a couple of plates and carried them over to the living area. "Here," he said, handing one of the plates to Carmen and then taking a seat on a nearby sofa.

They ate together in silence, silence that was neither uncomfortable nor demanding. Every once in awhile though, Riker noticed her furtively wipe at her face, which was still turned away from him. It was like her walls were slowly crumbling, and behind them huddled a lonely and mournful child.

Once she was finished with her food, she drew in a deep breath and straightened in her chair. "Do you play baseball, commander?" she asked.

He scraped one last bite onto his fork. "Baseball? Uh, not really, no."

"Oh."

Riker hesitated to bring the fork to his mouth. "I'm sorry," he felt compelled to say.

"Sorry?" She turned and looked at him, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "For what?"

"Well, did your dad play?"

"Yes."

"And so doesn't it...I don't know. Doesn't it bother you? The differences, I mean?"

Carmen shrugged dismissively. "No. It's...kind of nice, actually." She sank back into her chair, leaving Riker's frame of view. "It's the similarities that hurt, not the differences."

Her words lingered in his mind. It made sense to him then; the less he had in common with her father, the easier it would be to believe he was a stranger.

"Did he teach you to play?" he asked, trying to stay on her original topic and hoping it would draw that lonely child out.

"Yes." A smile entered her voice. "He taught me baseball, the trombone, poker...he was always trying to keep me busy. Alone time never really suited me."

"Wait-he taught you poker?"

A laugh rose up from her chair. "It was all well and good until they caught me teaching the other grade-school kids. They even made me return Reynold Clancy's marble collection, which I won fair and square."

Riker laughed heartily. "So you've always been a trouble-maker then?"

She twisted around to face him, eyes shining smugly. "Come on, you're not really such a stiff, are you?"

"Well," he said, pulling up one of his legs and clearing his throat. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but...there was this one incident, when I was at the academy-" _Dee-dum_. For a second time that night, door chimes interrupted his train of thought.

The grin fled from Carmen's face. Her demeanor hardened into a soldier-like alertness. _How quick she is to put her armor back on_ , Riker noted with a touch of sadness.

"Stay here. I'll be right back." He pushed his plate to the side and rose from the sofa. Carmen crouched on the seat of the chair, her wary blue eyes peering over the top.

Riker approached the door. With the push of a button, it slid to the side. A woman stood on his threshold, smiling warmly. Her teal blue dress hugged her hips in a way that made Riker's pulse race. "Hey, Will. Cooking again?" Troi asked. Her nose turned up to sniff the air. "Mind if I come in for a bite? It's been a long day."

"Oh, well uh…"

"I'm too late, aren't I?" The counselor reached out and wiped a piece of Jibalian egg from his upper lip. "It looks like you've already eaten," she giggled. Her hand lingered for an extra second, reluctant to leave his face. Riker bit his lip, thinking once again about their unfinished conversation.

"Counselor?"

Riker looked down, surprised to find Carmen at his elbow suddenly.

"Oh! Hello, Carmen," Troi's hand returned hastily to her side. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm...fine," she said slowly, glancing between the man and the woman with a suspicious sort of smirk. "On my out, actually. I was about to go see if Geordi's reprogrammed my replicator yet."

"He _has_ ," Riker huffed. "And don't even think about-"

"Whoa whoa, I was only kidding!" Carmen insisted, stifling a laugh. "I'm going to stick with Samarian Sunsets, I swear."

"Good." Riker tugged at the bottom of his shirt, squaring the hem. "Anyways, don't leave yet-Deanna was just about to join us for dessert. Weren't you?"

"As long as it's chocolate," she quipped. Troi followed him into the kitchen, then stopped short at sight of the scattered spice jars and dirty cooking utensils. Planting her hands on her hips, she clicked her tongue. _What a mess!_ her face read. Riker bumped against her shoulder. _So what?_ read his. Then, after exchanging grins, they both set about tidying up.

A single, yellowish light illuminated the kitchenette, giving it the appearance of a stage. Riker and Troi worked in tandem as if performing a well-rehearsed scene. Carmen looked on, a wistful smile glowing from her face. For a brief moment, she pictured younger versions of the pair practicing the same scene. Only every once in awhile, they'd pause to check on a dark-haired baby napping nearby.

Her smile crumbled. "I uh...I think I'll go," she said abruptly.

"Go?" Riker paused, frowning.

Troi's lips drew into a thin, worried line. _You don't have to leave_ , she said into her mind. _Please, won't you stay?_

Carmen took a step back, shaking her head. _The differences do hurt, sometimes._

 _You've learned to avoid pain, I know. But even if you leave, the pain won't._ Troi approached her cautiously. "It's okay, Carmen. Here, have a seat," she said aloud, encouraging her with a smile.

But Carmen backed farther away. "I can't. I just...I'm sorry." Then she turned and hurried through the door before they could change her mind. Or rather, before _she_ could change her mind.

Yes, it had been a long day. And it was going to be a long night as well.

* * *

 **Up next: they reach Earth! I'm still editing that chapter, but I should have it up within the next few days. Thanks so much to everyone still following along!**


	32. The Approach

**A/N: Thanks so much, angel897 and Notary Sojak! There will be more moments like that between Carmen and Riker :-). I'm so excited you loved that chapter!**

* * *

"There it is, sir," the commander said, slowly rising to his feet. On the bridge's viewscreen, a marbled blue sphere drifted slowly, peacefully, through space. "Home."

Picard leaned forward in his chair, eyes alight with a humble sort of awe. His mind, as was wont to do, drifted to words from another time. "Do you know what Neil Armstrong did, when he stood on the moon?" he asked. Riker gave him an inquisitive look. "He said he put up his thumb and blotted out the entire planet earth. But instead of making him feel like a giant, he said it made him feel very, very small."

Riker smiled appreciatively. "Strange, isn't it? That only a handful of people had ever left Earth when he said that."

Picard grunted. "Yes. And now, there are some humans who have never even set foot on its shores."

"Like Carmen," the commander added. He leaned one knee over the navigation console, eyes still glued to the majestic sight.

Picard glanced at him, concern mingling with his curiosity. "How is she, by the way?"

"She's...well, she's hard to read. One minute she seems okay, and the next she's holed up in her room again." Riker straightened both legs to the ground and smoothed out his uniform.

"Has Counselor Troi spoken to you about it? She has better insight than anyone else."

"Yes, sir. We spoke the other night." Riker returned to his chair and then drew in a deep breath. "She says that Carmen's Betazoid blood is making things hard for her. That it makes her...remember things more vividly. Deanna thinks that's why she's been seeing those flashbacks whenever she's around-that Carmen's been inadvertently projecting them."

Picard's brows drew together in grim contemplation. "It must have been terrible, to be an empath _and_ a soldier in war. A normal human mind is barely capable of comprehending such horrors." He shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

Riker winced at the notion. He thought of her walls that constantly stood between them, and felt a sad appreciation for their sturdiness. "When does the council want to see her, by the way? Will it be immediately?"

"They will hear out Admiral Alidar first. But Will…" Picard's commanding officer threw him a look of surprise at the sound of his informal name. "I expect this is going to be...difficult."

Riker blew out of the side of his mouth. "I'm anticipating that."

"For both of you, I mean."

This gave the commander pause. Picard looked over, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. It made Riker feel suddenly defensive. "You have my word, sir. I will be as objective as I can-"

"It's not that."

Again, Riker paused. "Sir?"

Picard sighed with disdain for what he was about to say. "She is not to be your charge anymore."

"Not my-? What do you mean, sir?"

"Our official orders have come in. Carmen and Alidar are to be taken immediately into custody once we dock."

Riker stiffened. "But she's doing this of her own volition!" he protested.

"It is a precaution, given her current record. She has attacked our crew on several occasions, remember."

"She was disoriented and confused when she did that," Riker pointed out.

"I know, Will."

"Please, sir. If they take her away, she'll lash out again. Let me handle her. I'll take full responsibility-"

"I tried to convince them." Picard's gaze bore into his. "But their minds won't be changed."

Riker shook his head, defeated. If the captain's legendary persuasion had failed, then he knew nothing else would be of use. "Permission to leave the bridge, sir," he requested, his jaw squarely set. "I ought to let her know."

Picard assented with an incline of his head. "Good luck, Number One."

* * *

Carmen looked down at the chocolatey mess. Half-melted ice cream pooled at the bottom of her bowl. Her stomach churned, but she wasn't sure if it was from the sugar or her nerves. A crowd had gathered near the gaping windows of Ten Forward. Every once in awhile, sighs of awe could be heard as the blue curve of Earth drew nearer and nearer. Carmen's back was to them, so she didn't notice a young man pull away from the throng and approach the counter where she sat.

"How come you aren't watching?" he asked. Carmen let her spoon clatter noisily against the bowl and looked around in search of the one who had disturbed her brooding. Her eyes fell on a young man with chestnut brown hair. He looked vaguely familiar, but she was used to that by now.

"Sheppard, remember?" he said, flashing her a harmless smile. "With the...spaghetti."

Carmen nodded. "Oh, yeah. Right." She picked up her spoon again, salvaging what she could of the melted dessert in hopes of inspiring an appetite.

"So how come, then?" he continued.

"What?"

He nodded towards the crowded windows. "How come you aren't watching? I heard this is the best view port on the whole ship."

"I've got other things on my mind," she grumbled, slumping over her bowl.

Sheppard opened his mouth to reply, then noticed that a large shadow was hovering behind him. "Everything okay over here?" its owner inquired. The young ensign turned around to find Commander Riker staring down at him, something stern and imposing set into his countenance.

"Yes, sir," he replied hastily, fighting the urge to slink away.

"Carmen?" The commander cast the young woman a glance. _So that's her name._

"What?" She lifted her head. It wasn't until then that she noticed Sheppard's discomfort. "Oh. Yeah, everything's fine."

Sheppard felt a flush of relief. "Commander. Uh, Carmen." He nodded them both a polite good-bye, and then hurriedly returned to the safety of the crowd.

Riker watched him the whole time, lowering himself onto one of the barstools. "He wasn't bothering you, was he?"

Carmen looked over with a smirk. "Bothering me?"

"Yeah. I know how some of these young ensigns can be. Think they're the best thing that ever walked onto the Enterprise."

Carmen laughed. "I can take care of myself, you know. And yes, he was bothering me. But not like that. I think he actually meant well." Riker nodded slowly, begrudgingly. "So how soon til we dock?"

"Under an hour." A solemn change came over the commander. He turned to face the counter, then leaned forward onto his elbows as if suddenly weary. "Hey, listen. About that…"

Carmen pushed her bowl away, finally giving up. The concern in Riker's voice tied her stomach into knots all over again. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry, Carmen. But you'll have to...uh…" He cleared his throat and tried again. "I can't go with you. Not at first."

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"They're sending out a party for you and Admiral Alidar. They'll meet us in the terminal. I need you to comply."

" _Comply?!_ " Her voice rose angrily.

"Don't fight them, okay? I mean it," Riker warned. "You'll only make this harder on yourself. On all of us. Captain Picard is vouching for you."

"You expect me to be a prisoner-again?" She pushed away from the counter and stood. "I didn't come to your universe on purpose. I didn't ask to be rescued."

"But you _did_ return to the Enterprise when you had a chance to disappear. You wanted to help, remember? You still can." Riker stood up as well, looming over her small, defiant form.

Carmen snarled in frustration. "And then what will they do with me? You know what they did with innocent children where I come from. And I am not a child anymore. Nor innocent."

Riker's chest sank. "I don't know. I don't know what they'll decide. But just this once...let us do the fighting, okay? Please, Carmen. Say you'll go peacefully."

She ground her teeth together, loathing the idea of such capitulation.

"Please," he repeated, placing one hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "For me."

Her anger dissipated. She looked at the hand on her shoulder, then up at his face. "Fine," she said. "I'll go peacefully."


	33. Damage Done

**A/N: Angel897 and WIWJ-I love your guys' comments! There will definitely be more bonding. :-) I'm actually really excited for these next few chapters. Going to reveal a few big things, and test a few relationships. I hope you keep liking it!**

* * *

Starstruck crowds gathered on either side of the Enterprise. The massive docking bay echoed with their excited murmurs, murmurs that erupted into full-blown cheers as crew members began to trickle out of the famous flagship. A number of whistles rang out. Children waved from atop their parents' shoulders. Waiting family members rushed forth when they spied their loved ones debarking.

Carmen's eyes widened as she looked about at their reception. She walked beside Counselor Troi, who had come to meet her after the commander returned to the bridge for docking procedures. The overwhelming sense of jubilation pounded against a closed door in her mind, threatening to break it down. And from behind that door, her empathic senses yearned to be set free, to swim in the joy of the moment.

Then she caught sight of a black block in the crowd. A host of armed officers stood shoulder to shoulder with somber faces and large weapons on display. That was what awaited her, not the joy, not the crowds.

"It's going to be alright, Carmen." She felt the counselor's hand go gently around her arm. "This isn't goodbye."

"I know." Carmen's reply came out more curt than she intended. She bit her lip and cringed. In that moment, she realized just how much she would miss Troi's soothing presence. "I uh...I'm sorry that I didn't stay the other night, when we were in the commander's quarters." She struggled to meet the counselor's eye. "I wish I had listened to you. I wish...I wish we had more time."

Troi stared at her for a few moments, touched by the sudden confession. Her hand wandered up to brush a stray lock of hair from the young woman's face. "Oh, Carmen. Me too." She pulled her in close for an embrace.

Carmen stood rigid for the first few moments. It felt like a lifetime ago since anyone had embraced her. Then she felt the counselor's presence in her mind. There were no words, only a distantly familiar sense of comfort. Soon she found herself leaning gratefully into Troi's solace and returning the embrace.

 _Remember, Carmen. You won't be alone. If you need me, I'll be listening._

 _But how? How do I reach you?_

 _Don't worry. I'll hear you._

The mood in the docking bay suddenly shifted. An uneasy silence settled over the crowd. Carmen pulled away, scanning for danger. Everyone's attention was fixed on the next figure emerging from the Enterprise.

Alidar strode down the gangway. He carried himself with the pride of an admiral. The nearest bystanders shuffled back, clutching tightly at their children. One small girl would not be moved, however. She stared up at the Romulan with childish curiosity. He paused in front of her, and a nervous murmur rippled through the crowd. Still no hint of fear could be found on the girl's face.

A gentle smile cracked Alidar's militant exterior. "What's your name, little one?"

"Selena. What's your name?" She tucked some amber-colored hair behind her ear.

"Alidar," he answered. "Your name reminds me of the Selentia forests on my planet. They are beautiful, just like you." Her face beamed in the wake of his words.

"Selena, come!" her mother whispered urgently. The young girl frowned, but obeyed.

"See ya, Mister Alidar!" She spun around, her little tunic flaring like the petals of a pink flower. Then she skipped over to her parents, who sighed with relief to have her within their reach once again.

A few sharp cries of displeasure rose up as a host of guards pushed their way towards the Romulan. They were led by a fair-haired man with bright red cheeks and cold blue eyes.

"Search him," he ordered, gesturing towards Alidar.

Worf snorted. "I assure you he has no weapons."

"He is our charge now, thank-you." His terse response ruffled the Klingon lieutenant.

"Who are you, exactly?"

"Captain Campbell. And there were supposed to be two prisoners-where is the other?"

"Here." Carmen stepped forth. A buzz of intrigue ran along the sidelines. Worf nodded at the young woman, a silent and respectful greeting. She nodded back.

"Search her, too," Campbell ordered his men. They swarmed Carmen with loudly trilling scanners. Her chest tightened. Her jaw clenched. She fought the urge to break away from their oppressive presence with every ounce of restraint that she had.

"They are both negative, sir," an officer reported.

"Negative?" The captain frowned, eying them both suspiciously. He caught sight of the blue sphere clasped to Alidar's waist. "Then what is this?" His hand reached out and snatched it off the Romulan's belt.

"No-not that!" Alidar protested. "It's not dangerous, I promise!"

"Silence!" Campbell barked. He threw the sphere into the air and then caught it, testing its weight.

"My son made that for me," Alidar explained. "Please, don't-"

The captain struck him across the face without warning. Alidar stumbled backwards, more from shock than the actual force of the blow.

Next thing anyone knew, Campbell was reeling towards the ground from a retaliatory blow. But not from the Romulan. It came from the young woman, who stood over him bristling with anger. "Do not hit him again," she warned.

The crowd jostled loudly. They inched closer to the action, eager to witness whatever drama might unfold. A few snickers could be heard as Campbell sputtered angrily from the ground.

" _Carmen!_ " someone shouted. She stepped away, shrinking back from the commander's furious voice. Riker emerged, hurrying towards the captain. "I apologize for her conduct," he said, helping him to his feet.

"Why wasn't she under supervision, like the Romulan?" Campbell demanded. He ran one of his hands through his pale hair until it laid flat again.

"Call it an oversight." He threw Carmen a pointed glare.

"But he-"

"No excuses, Carmen!" Riker stepped close and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "I thought you said there wouldn't be any trouble! Do your promises mean nothing? Do you even care what happens to you?"

She looked away, unwilling to argue for once. Her eyes misted over with tears. Riker shook his head, the edge of his anger dulled. But the damage had already been done. "Alright, captain. You may...you may proceed."

Campbell grinned triumphantly. "Move out!" he bellowed. The crowd parted as the two prisoners were marched away. Riker wrestled with his conscience, watching Carmen disappear from view. She never tried to look back at him.

Worf drew himself up to the commander's side. "I don't like him, sir," he growled. "That was a dishonorable thing to do."

Riker furrowed his brow in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"That Campbell fellow. He struck the Romulan without provocation. Did you not see it?"

Riker covered his face with one hand as he pieced together what had happened. "No. But I wish I had."

* * *

Carmen felt the weight of the crowd's judgment as she was goaded out of the shuttle bay. She glanced up one final time at the Enterprise's hull before her vision was replaced by the stark white ceiling of a hall. The hall stretched out for seemingly forever, with smaller avenues branching off every once in awhile. Everything was the same blinding white: the floors, the walls, even the occasional row of chairs. It was the lack of color that made Carmen sick to her stomach, she told herself, not the bitter taste of betrayal. _But what did I expect? He chose a career over a family. He cares about his orders, not me._

At long last, their company halted. They stood outside of two large doors. A rotund man in a gray uniform sat behind a glass panel to the side of these doors. Campbell approached this man and they began some sort of official discourse.

Alidar shifted forward, brushing against Carmen's shoulder. "Why did you do that back there?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Campbell is a bully."

"And I'm a Romulan," he countered. "Anyways, you didn't have to do that."

"You came here to warn us. You didn't have to do that, either." She smiled at him wryly.

He tilted his head to the side, regarding her with intrigue and even a hint of admiration. "You really do believe me, don't you?"

Her smile turned sincere. "I do. And I don't want to see war come to this place, too. You were right, you know. Both sides would lose."

"What do you mean 'come to this place _too_?'"

She glanced at their captors and then drew in a deep breath. "I'm not from here. I'm from a different Enterprise, the one that you destroyed."

"I told you, I didn't destroy your ship."

"Not _you_. But Admiral Alidar did. Where I'm from."

He laughed incredulously. "You're crazy. I'm sorry for whatever happened to you that resulted in these-these illusions-"

"A parallel universe. That's where they say I'm from," she stated. Her voice, like her gaze, remained steady. "And I wish they were only illusions."

He fell silent for a few seconds, trying to wrap his mind around her words. "Is that how you knew of my son?" he asked. "Did you meet him...over there?"

"Yes."

"How?" Alidar leaned towards her eagerly.

"He was our prisoner."

"Prisoner?!" He jumped back, shaking his head. "No. I wouldn't have destroyed a ship with my son aboard."

Carmen's mouth twisted into a grimace. "He wasn't aboard anymore. I beamed over his body."

"His…?" Alidar's face wrenched with bewilderment and disgust. All sentiments of solidarity evaporated in that moment.

"Alright," Campbell's voice boomed. "They've been processed. Now lock them up."


	34. Making Waves

The Golden Gate bridge stood tall against an azure sky, a proud relic of the past. It spanned across a bay that rivalled the sky in color. Waves made little wrinkles on its surface, and sunlight danced along these imperfections. Gleaming towers crowded the horizon, aspiring to touch wisps of clouds that floated overhead. It was a beautiful day in San Francisco, but Counselor Troi's mind was far away.

She stood on the edge of a veranda and stared down at the smooth, polished stones beneath her feet. Behind her buzzed the sound of diplomats making small talk. Troi sighed and cast her gaze about their faces once more. A Klingon stood beside Captain Picard, but it was not Worf. This one was younger, with long, coarse hair and distinguished cranial ridges above his brow. Though she had never met him, Troi recognized Vullek right away. She had seen him in many of Carmen's memories.

The melodious ringing of a bell beckoned from inside. The veranda emptied as patrons filed through a set of tall, glass doors. As Troi crossed the threshold, she found herself in a great gray chamber. A sleek table resided in the center of this chamber, oval-shaped and dotted with colorful clusters of food. To the counselor's dismay, nothing looked like it was made of chocolate.

Just as the doors were about to close, two figures hurried through. Troi could feel a storm enter with them.

"Commander Riker and Lieutenant Worf! Take a seat, won't you?" A tall, pale-skinned alien bade them. He wore a strange-looking headpiece that matched his black and gray robes. Bulges rose and fell across his forehead and around the top of his mouth. Two slits took the place of a nose, and his deep-set eyes were the same gray color of the room. He was handsome by Grazerite standards, but many humans found his appearance rather grotesque.

"Thank-you, President Jaresh," Riker said, giving the alien a bow of his head. "But there is a matter that needs to be addressed immediately."

"Oh?" Jaresh quieted a surge of nervous chatter with a wave of his hand. "What is it?"

"Some disturbing behavior on part of one of your officers. I believe his name was Campbell."

"Campbell?" A human male with graying hair and a peppered beard leaned forward, scoffing loudly. "Be careful; you are referring to one of my top men."

"That may be, Admiral Leyton," Riker retorted. "But tell me, do your men make a habit of using excessive force?"

"My men make it a habit to get the job done," Leyton replied. He ignored the looks of concern coming from other councilmembers.

Worf grunted, disgust written plainly on his face. "The Romulan was being complicit when your soldier struck him."

Jaresh turned to one of his attendants. "Send for Campbell, please," he ordered. "I would like him to explain himself."

Riker nodded gratefully, then made his way around the long table to an empty seat beside Counselor Troi. A minute of of hushed, private conversations ensued as everyone waited for Campbell's arrival.

"Is Carmen alright?" Troi whispered.

Riker blew out an exasperated sigh. "I'm afraid we have a problem."

"Problem?" Troi blurted out, louder than she had anticipated. She glanced around quickly to make sure that it hadn't drawn anybody's attention. "What kind of problem?"

"Well, Carmen retaliated. I didn't see Campbell throw the first punch, so I thought she was just...you know...lashing out."

The counselor's chest sank. "Will…"

"I know, I know. I just hope things don't get worse for her, when they find out what she did."

Troi nodded grimly. "That man over there, Leyton...I don't think we can trust him."

"Yeah, he rubs me the wrong way, too," Riker huffed.

"It's not just that. I've seen him before-in Carmen's memories. He was the one who asked her to turn on Picard."

The commander's eyes widened. He stole a glance towards Leyton, who was leaning back in his chair with a glass to his lips. To picture him alone with Carmen, preying on the indentured nature of her loyalty to Starfleet, made the commander's blood boil.

Just then the room fell silent. Jaresh's attendant appeared with Campbell at his side. The blond-haired man wiped tenderly at his swollen, busted nose.

"Captain Campbell," Jaresh began. "It has been brought to our atten-what happened to your nose?"

Campbell shifted on his feet. "One of the prisoners did this."

"The Romulan?"

"No. The...the girl." His lips curled into a grimace at the admission.

Riker felt the weight of Picard's stern stare. He spoke up quickly: "She was coming to the Romulan's defense, your honor."

Creases formed along Jaresh's forehead. "I read about an incident in which she tried to attack the Romulan. It was in the presence of several senior officers, nonetheless. Why would she be defending him now?"

"When that incident occurred, we did not know of the admiral's message," Troi pitched in. "But now that we've heard it, Carmen has...changed her mind about him. She believes him."

The man sitting to Picard's left snorted. "She was a child-soldier. All she knows is war, so of course she believes him."

The Klingon on Picard's other side brought his cup down to the table with a clatter. A few surprised heads turned his way. "She is not a war-monger," he growled. "If it was war that she wanted, then she would have let Jarat carry out his plan. She would have let him tarnish the Klingon empire."

Jaresh sent him a pacifying smile. "Yes, Captain Vullek. We appreciate your efforts in staving off war on _that_ front."

But the Klingon did not receive his gratitude well. "You sit here and thank me, yet lock up the child-soldier? "

"She attacked an officer of the court," Campbell reminded everyone. He looked over at Leyton as if for backup, but the admiral had fallen strangely silent.

"She was defending the honor of another," Vullek countered. "If this were a Klingon court, she would be commended, not punished."

"Vullek, please," Picard whispered. The young warrior pursed his lips together, reluctantly refraining from adding anything else. Riker sent him an appreciative smile. He understood now, the conviction behind Carmen's faith in the Klingon.

"Anyways, I believe the Romulan, too." Troi's impassioned voice drew all eyes to her, including the commander's. "I sensed no deception from him. He has given up everything for this: his home, his family. He will never be allowed to return."

"It is quite a price to pay," Jaresh mused.

"But this is a Romulan we are talking about," another councilman argued. "They are dedicated. Conniving. They have been trying to goad us into making the first move for years now. Besides, our sensors would have picked something up by now."

"Yes, that is something to consider." Jaresh turned towards Leyton. "You've not heard of anything strange from our outposts along the Neutral Zone?"

Leyton blinked. "Hmm? Oh, well, no." Then he drew up his shoulders and returned to the conversation. "But the threat of war is not one to scoff at. We should launch a probe, take a closer look."

"How long until we would receive its findings?"

"If we sent one off immediately, then two days."

"Two days?" Picard frowned. "If Mister Alidar is telling the truth, then we may only have a month before the first attack."

"It is the best we can do for now," Jaresh assured him. "We must be patient. And prudent. Are we all in accordance for Leyton's proposal?" All around the table, members nodded in agreement. "Good. Then I want that probe launched within the hour."

"Yes, your honor," Leyton responded. "But first, I will assign a new security detail for our guests."

Campbell's head whipped towards the admiral. "What?!" he exclaimed.

"You are relieved of duty for now, Campbell." Leyton stared at the captain evenly.

"But-but-sir!"

"You may leave now. Thank-you."

Campbell's face reddened with indignation. But after a gentle prodding from Jaresh's attendant, he spun on his heel and exited the chamber in silent, seething outrage.

Jaresh rose from his chair. "We will convene again at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning to conduct our first questioning of the Romulan. Captain Picard, you and your team are welcome to be present."

"Thank-you, your honor," Picard replied.

"This meeting is adjourned." The room filled with sounds of shuffling as each individual pushed away from the table. Riker alone remained seated. "Wait-your honor! What about Carmen?"

Jaresh paused. "She will be detained until further notice, of course."

"Please, your honor," Riker pleaded. "She doesn't do well in isolation."

"I'm sorry, commander. But there is no alternative."

"I will take full responsi-"

"I cannot permit someone prone to violence to roam these grounds. Again, I am sorry. You have formed a certain rapport with the girl. Yes?"

"Yes, sir," Riker admitted.

"Then I will permit you to counsel her in the meantime. But only so long as there are no more incidents. Understood?"

"Understood, sir. And thank-you." Riker bowed respectfully, then turned to find Troi waiting at his side. She flashed him a commiserating look. They would have to pick their battles if they wanted to avoid the war.


	35. Monsters

**A/N: Hello to my new followers! I'm so glad you found my story and liked it enough to follow. I hope you continue to like it!**

 **Angel897-I love your comments so much! Thanks for always reading :-)**

* * *

After the debriefing, accommodations were assigned to each of the Enterprise's senior officers. Once everyone was rested and freshened, an elaborate dinner was held in honor of the flagship's rare visit to Earth. Captain Picard found comfort in the presence of many old colleagues. Worf and Vullek retreated to a mezzanine together to speak of Klingon matters in their native tongue. Riker came across a few officers he knew from his time aboard the U.S.S. Potemkin, and was soon caught up in stories of his days as an operations officer.

Finally tiring of company, the commander approached a sleek bar that curved along the edge of a patio. He heaved himself into a chair and ordered a Vulcan spice tea to help clear his head. Just as the bartender returned with his order, the rustle of a silver dress caught his attention.

"Any marriage proposals yet?" he quipped.

Troi slid into the seat beside him and wrinkled her nose. "Only a few. But don't worry, they'd never work out."

"Who said I was worried?" Riker tried to play it off, leaning back in his chair while sipping on his drink.

Troi winked. "I'm an empath, remember?"

A guilty grin made its way across the commander's face. "Well, fine. But look at the competition! How can I compare to that Brumley guy, for instance?" He nodded towards a particularly well-built ambassador.

Troi laughed, a sound as pleasant as the ocean breeze that tousled Riker's hair. "Brumley? He's from a desert planet! I'm not a fan of sand, unless the ocean's nearby."

"It's nearby now," Riker pointed out. There was a mischievous sort of invitation glinting in his eyes.

The counselor laughed again, wistfully this time, and leaned against his shoulder. "Oh, Will. We're here on business, remember?"

"Come on," he urged. "Doesn't a walk sound nice? No one will miss us. Except Brumley, maybe."

Troi straightened suddenly. Her eyes tracked quickly back and forth.

"Deanna?" Riker searched her face, confused and concerned. "Deanna, what is it? What's going on?"

"It's Carmen," she whispered. "She's in trouble."

* * *

Carmen sat with her back against a wall, trying to keep herself awake. Hours had passed. Where was everybody? How much longer would she have to be in here?

She cast a spiteful glance at the white walls. They seemed to be closing in on her. She shut her eyes, trying to block them out. But instead of darkness, she saw her father. He laid on his back, one hand hanging over the edge of a cot. As Carmen tried to reach for his hand, she felt herself being snatched away. Then she saw the gaping hole in the middle of his chest.

"NO!" she screamed, jolting awake. "No...I've got to...I've got to stay awake." She climbed to her feet, swaying with exhaustion. But there was nowhere to go. There was no one to fight.

Carmen paced over to the sealed door. "Guards! Someone! Is anyone there?"

No answer.

"Let me out! _I said let me out of here!_ " She pounded against the door until her knuckles throbbed. A smear of blood appeared, vivid in contrast against the white. Carmen paused. Snow. It looked like blood on snow. A Romulan outpost. The face of a little girl. It was only the poor thing's second time in battle. Carmen never forgot the way her blood looked on that hillside, a bright little stream of red in a colorless world.

Carmen screamed again, suddenly finding herself back in her cell. She was slumped at the base of the door. Her heart raced with fear. The monsters of her mind were closing in, lured by a bounty of hellish memories. With a roar, she launched into a new futile assault against the walls keeping her in. Sweat gathered along her scalp. Blood splattered her cell with every bone-shattering strike. She cried out from the bottom of her soul until her throat was hoarse and her lungs ached. But at least her pain was keeping the monsters at bay.

 _Carmen! I'm here, Carmen! It's okay._ The counselor's voice broke through her panic. Carmen sank to her knees, panting for breath.

 _You have to get me out of here! I can't take it anymore!_

 _I'm afraid we can't get you out. But they said Will could go in. He's right here, Carmen. I can send him to you-_

 _Everywhere I turn, I see a dead body. I see a person that I lost. I can't even close my eyes-they're there, too._

 _Then don't look at them. Look at this..._

Carmen collapsed, one cheek pressed against the bloodied tile. Her eyes closed. This time, she did not see a body. She saw a star-frosted sky. Beneath the star-frosted sky, a series of waterfalls tumbled down a mossy mountainside. Lush green plants filled the air with perfume. Carmen touched the mist of the falls on their leaves. She could feel moonlight kissing her bare skin and mud filling the spaces between her toes. _Where am I?_

 _This is my homeworld, Betazed,_ she heard the counselor say. _Stay here tonight._

Carmen took a deep breath, her anguish fading into the distance like an echo. _I like it. Do you think I'll be able to see it for real someday?_

 _Yes. We'll go there together. I promise._

Tranquility flooded the young woman's heart, drowning her fears and seeping somewhere deep into her soul. She listened to the falls. She listened to the night birds. And for the first time in a long time, Carmen felt at peace.

* * *

Troi opened her eyes. The party had died down some. Commander Riker was still sitting at her side, watching her intently. "Well?" he prompted.

"She's okay," Troi said. "At least for now."

Riker sighed as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. "What did you do?"

"I showed her Janaran Falls." Stars reflected off her dark eyes. Their glimmer was not lost on the commander.

"One of my favorite places, too," he chuckled. "Wait. You didn't show her…?"

"It was just the falls," Troi assured him. Then she looked away, smiling. "You remember that night, then?"

"Of course I do. It was our last night together, before I shipped out with the Potemkin."

A pensive silence descended over the pair as memories danced through their mind. Troi was first to speak up. "Hey, do you uh...do you still want to take that walk?"

Riker hesitated. Old feelings rose in his chest like an ocean swell. He found himself unsure of how to navigate them, worried that he might capsize at any moment.

"Yeah," he said, diving into the uncertainty headfirst. "Let's get out of here."


	36. Business

A crimson ember set the sky ablaze. Color seeped into the world as morning breathed over the bay. All around, San Francisco stirred back to life, gently shaken from night's spell.

Commander Riker, already risen and dressed, approached the side of the bed. "Deanna," he urged. Her dark tresses cascaded over the edge, and the commander closed his eyes for a moment, remembering what it felt like to be lost in their waves. " _Imzadi_ ," he tried again, running a hand over her cheek.

Her eyelids fluttered open. "Will?"

"Hey," he grinned. "Good morning."

She smiled back at him. "Good night, too." Her arms wound around his neck and pulled him closer.

"Yeah it was, wasn't it?" Riker laughed. Then his smile kissed hers. A soft sigh escaped her lips as he pulled away again. The sound evoked a rush of memories from their walk on the beach. The silver moonlight on her silver dress. The warmth of her skin beneath his lips. The urgency of her hands. The sound of her cries mingling with the rushing and roaring of waves.

"What's this, dressed already?" Troi asked, bringing him back from the intoxicating thoughts. She cast a disappointed eye over his uniform.

"Sorry," he said, his smile turning devious. "But we're here on business, remember?"

She smacked his chest, feigning outrage. "It's always business first, isn't it?" she teased. It was just a gibe, but both felt the weight of its truth at the same time. Their faces slowly sobered.

Riker cleared his throat. "Hey, um, I brought you breakfast." He reached for a plate on the night table and set it before her. "Pancakes. _Chocolate chip_ pancakes."

"Oh. Thank-you." She sat up, pulling the plate onto her lap. Riker stood and strode over to the window. Crimson turned to gold as morning gained its strength. The bay glittered as if it were made of dew. But he didn't notice any of this.

"I wonder if...I wonder if he stayed," the commander said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Carmen's dad. I wonder if he turned down the Potemkin and stayed on Betazed."

Troi set down her fork. "Or maybe his imzadi went with him."

Riker turned around and met the counselor's eyes. There was a sad sort of acknowledgment in each of their gazes. "Doesn't matter now, I guess," he said. "They lost each other, and we…we..." He trailed off, unsure of how to define what they had.

"We are still here," Troi declared. She threw back the covers and came to his side, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "We are still here," she repeated, softer this time. "And that's all that matters now, my imzadi."

He tilted her head back, eyes shining gratefully. "You know," he said, smiling anew. "Maybe just this once...business can come after." She laughed, yielding gladly as he pulled her back towards the bed.

* * *

Carmen's eyes opened slowly, gently. She could hear her own breath rising and falling in stark silence. Though she was back in her cell, she could still feel the spray of Janaran Falls on her skin. Its peace lingered in her mind like the melody of a favorite song.

She rolled onto her back and rubbed at her eyes. Pain shot up from her hands as she did so. When she looked at them, she found they were still swollen and bloodied from her delirious assault the night before.

Then her door slid open with a hydraulic hiss. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sudden breach of solitude. She scrambled to the far side of her cell, crouching against the wall with muscles poised and ready.

A lone man entered. The door closed behind him. Carmen's heart continued to pound when she recognized his face. "Hello," he greeted. "I'm-"

"I know who you are, Admiral Leyton," she growled. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes widened briefly with surprise. "I just wanted to talk," he offered, opening his hands in a gesture of innocence.

"Then where's the rest of the council? Where's the commander?" Carmen felt a prick of guilt as she mentioned the commander. No doubt he was still angry about the incident with Campbell. _That's okay_ , she thought. _I'm still angry, too_. Still, she found herself wishing it had been him at the door and not Leyton.

"No, no, not about business," the admiral insisted. He took two steps towards her, prompting Carmen to sidle along the wall towards a corner.

"It was brave of you, leaving your guards outside," she sneered.

But Leyton smiled placidly. "Ah, yes. I'm aware of your record. I'm also aware of what your council did to you. And I wanted to...apologize."

Carmen's face wrenched in bemusement. "What? Why?"

"Because I doubt they ever did."

She studied him warily for a few moments. Then, without warning, a laugh tumbled from her lips. It was a menacing, mirthless laugh that made Leyton's smile falter. "I don't want your apology, admiral. It won't change anything."

His smile hung on by a thread now. "Well if I can't apologize for them, then at least allow me to apologize for Campbell. Are you..uh...hungry, Miss Riker? I can have my men prepare anything you want, if it will help you forget that unfortunate first impression. You can even eat in the food hall like a guest, not a prisoner."

Carmen studied him again, still guarded and aloof. "I'll have what Alidar's having," she stated flatly.

"Alidar? Oh, but he's...he's surely on his way by now."

Her forehead creased with distress. "What do you mean?"

"To the hearing, of course! Didn't the commander tell you that was this morning?"

"The comman-uh, no. He hasn't been by yet." Carmen fought the blush rising to her cheeks.

"Ah. Well he found some of his old crewmates at the dinner party last night," the admiral said, his smile returning with a vengeance.

"Dinner party?" she repeated.

"Yes. And they probably had a lot to catch up on. But he'll be by soon, I'm sure."

A slew of emotions wrestled in Carmen's chest. As she struggled to keep her face void of a reaction, one of her hands absent-mindedly reached up to push a lock of hair back into place.

"Your hand!" Leyton exclaimed. She whipped it back to her side. Then she tensed as he drew near, clucking with concern. "It looks broken! Come on, we have a doctor on duty. While he's fixing it up, you can think about what you want for breakfast. Deal?" He gestured towards the door, but Carmen hung back suspiciously. "What, do I have to make it an order?" he chuckled.

The young woman's hands ached something terrible, and her stomach felt painfully empty. Leyton's offer seemed harmless enough. Try as she might, Carmen couldn't come up with a reason he might be lying. _It's not like the commander's coming, anyways_ , she thought bitterly, following Leyton out of her cell.

* * *

After Carmen was taken care of by a doctor, Admiral Leyton led her to a food court with high, vaulted ceilings and a sweeping view of the city. She blinked in the brightness of the morning. A small gasp escaped her lips as sunlight tumbled through the window and collided against her skin. "It's real, isn't it?" she said. "The...the sunlight."

"Yes. Quite a view, isn't it?" Leyton said. He pulled out a chair, but she didn't seem to notice. "Here," he urged. "Take a seat. I'll go order you some food. Once you're finished, my men will escort you back to your cell. But take all the time you need."

She finally tore her attention away from the window. When she looked up at Leyton, her gaze had softened. "Um….thank-you," she mumbled. "So why aren't you at the hearing?"

"Oh, I'm supposed to be there, actually. I better hurry! Farewell, Miss Riker. Enjoy your breakfast." He nodded good-bye and then departed down a side hall, feeling her stare on his back all the while.

Eventually the hall joined up with a main passageway. A guard coming from the opposite direction waved him down. "Shall I get the Romulan ready, sir?" he asked.

"Not yet," Leyton replied. "But soon."

"Admiral!" Someone hailed. Leyton turned around to see a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair bearing down on them.

"Ah! Commander Riker!" he greeted. But the commander did not look in the mood for such cordialities.

"Where is Carmen?" he demanded. "And what happened in her cell?" It took Leyton a moment to remember the blood splatter along her walls. "If it was another one of your officers-"

"It was none of my men, commander," Leyton snapped. "You said it yourself-she doesn't do well in isolation."

Riker's anger faded, but still he remained leery. "Where is she then?"

The admiral chuckled, and Riker's anger returned. "I see it now-the similarities. She has your scowl." He laughed breezily again. "Don't worry, she's perfectly fine for the moment."

" _Where?_ " Riker pressed.

Leyton looked at a device on his wrist. "Shouldn't you be on your way to the hearing?"

"It doesn't begin for another half hour. Now, President Jaresh gave me permission to see her, so tell me-"

"Tell you? I'm sorry, I thought admiral was ranked higher than commander." Leyton's smile vanished. He inched closer to Riker, staring at him levelly. Riker stared back without flinching.

"Sorry to interrupt-" The tension broke as both men looked toward the other side of the wide hall, where Lieutenant Laforge stood uneasily. An electronic pad swung from one of his hands. "I just wanted to run something by you, Commander Riker," he said.

Leyton simpered at the lieutenant. "Yes, we were finished here anyways. See you gentlemen at the hearing." He pushed past Riker's shoulder on his way out, followed closely by the guard.

Laforge watched them depart down the passageway. Once they had disappeared from view, he shook his head and drew up next to the commander. "There's something about that guy I just don't like," he said.

"You and me both," Riker grumbled. "Now what was it you wanted to show me? Can it wait til after the hearing?" He looked about as if hoping to somehow catch a glimpse of the young woman.

"No, sir. It's about Alidar," Laforge replied. "And I think it changes everything."


	37. A Time in a Man's Life

**A/N: Angel897-Thanks again for the reviews. Definitely starting to get into the drama now haha.**

 **Zarah08-Hahaha thanks so much! I'm so glad to see that you're still reading, and that you like Carmen :-). Got some more bad-assery coming up lol. I'm especially excited for a chapter here soon that will show off the entire family's bad-ass streak lol.**

 **MonkaMoo-Ahh yay! That's awesome that you are enjoying this! Carmen is 19, and that is actually going to be revealed in the next chapter. So she isn't young enough to be legally adopted, but I picture that Riker and Troi have already emotionally done so. Carmen is still very hesitant, however, especially when it comes to Riker since she already had an established bond with her dad. And I will definitely be finishing this! There are like seven or eight more chapters, and I try to get one finished and published every few days. I hope you keep reading, and I hope you keep liking it!**

* * *

"So you're saying that your new leaders have vowed to disregard the treaty? To reclaim the Neutral Zone?" Councilwoman Jacqueline Larousse slowly paced the floor as she questioned the Romulan. She wore a high-collared white smock, a neat bun of silver hair, and a viciously cold smile.

"Yes," Alidar affirmed. "And Nelvana III is just the first step. Once that base is finished, they will be within striking distance of fifteen Federation sectors. You can still stop them, though. You _must_ stop them." He stood on a raised podium in the center of the room. Members of the council and Picard's party sat in tiered rows of seats that lined three of the walls. It was a small chamber where everything was a business-like gray, but felt much larger and much darker to the pleading Romulan.

Larousse came to a stop in front of the podium. Her eyes were a striking green and as sharp as daggers. "The Norkan Massacres have not been forgotten, Admiral Alidar," she said. "You led your fleet against an entire outpost of innocent civilians. And now we are supposed to believe that you care about Federation lives?"

"I care nothing for the Federation," he spat. "I am doing this to save my people-to save my son. But our High Command would not listen. This was my only recourse."

"You are a traitor!" Larousse's stare turned venomous. It uneased even those who were not in her line of sight. "To your people and your son. How does a traitor come to believe himself a savior?"

Alidar's jaw clenched. "I am a father," he declared. His voice grew weary as his gaze drifted around the room. "And so, there comes a time in a man's life that many of you have not known. A time when he looks down at the first smile of his baby boy, and it makes him realize...he must change the world for that boy. For all children. So yes, my son will grow up believing that I am a traitor. But if you heed my warning...then at least he _will_ grow up. Don't you see? Any war would be a war on our children. We cannot do that to them."

A poignant silence settled over the chamber, landing on the ears of Alidar's listeners like a gentle but chilling snow. Riker shifted in his chair. The Romulan's words had struck a deep and resonating chord somewhere in his chest. He wanted to help him. He wanted to believe him, more than anything. But he was about to help the council do the opposite of both of those things.

"Commander Riker-" Larousse said as if reading his mind. She alone stood unaffected, an evergreen immune to winter's touch. "I believe there is something you wanted to present to the council?"

"Uh, yes," he said, rising from his chair. He descended a short set of stairs, every step cleaving the ruminative silence. A screen on the wall across from Alidar blinked to life. One side displayed a column of numbers, and the other ran a simulation of two different ships in flight. "These are the engine logs and power data from the day we rescued Admiral Alidar," Riker explained. "Our chief engineer was going over these yesterday, and he found something of interest."

An intrigued murmur swept through the chamber. "Go on," Larousse urged.

Riker drew in a deep breath. "These two ships represent Alidar's scoutship and the pursuing Warbird. Notice here-at this point-the scoutship slows down. It had sustained heavy engine damage. The Warbird should have overtaken it, but it didn't. Instead, it matched the scoutship's speed. Three different times this happened. But no matter what, the Warbird kept its distance."

"So they weren't trying to catch Alidar," Larousse retorted. Her voice sounded like a smug, satisfied purr. All eyes turned on the Romulan.

"That's preposterous!" he snarled. "They fired on me openly! You were there, commander-they could have killed me!"

"Not necessarily," Picard said. He rose from his seat on the sidelines. "No doubt the Romulans have the same capabilities as we do when it comes to directing the impact of their weapons. And no doubt they knew we would come to your rescue once you pleaded for asylum." His mouth twisted in disgust. "You exploited our mercy, Alidar."

"No!" the Romulan protested. "I swear to you, I am telling the truth!"

"Admiral Leyton, remove him from our sight," Larousse ordered. Riker turned his attention to the man with the peppered beard. He was surprised to find him already staring back. He, too, wore a look of anger and disgust. But it seemed to be directed at the commander, not the Romulan.

With a wave of Leyton's hand, two of his men appeared and restrained the still-pleading Alidar. Speculation buzzed about the chamber, filling its walls with a dull roar. Riker turned away from the blaze of Leyton's stare and sought out the counselor. She sat quiet and alone, enshrouded in a despondent air.

The commander pushed his way past council members that flooded the stairs and took a seat beside Troi. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you ahead of time," he said. "Geordi told me just before the hearing."

"I still believe him, Will," she replied. I don't know what's going on, but Alidar is not our enemy. Even Carmen believes that."

Riker felt a sudden pang of urgency as he remembered the young woman. They had not spoken since the incident with Campbell in the docking bay, and he found himself strangely anxious to see her again.

"Number One-" Picard's beckon reached over the din. He emerged from the crowd, leaning against the banister in front of their seats. "Could you meet me in my quarters in five minutes? Call the other senior officers as well. I want to go over Mister Laforge's findings one more time."

"Yes, sir."

Riker stood, holding out a hand to help Troi to her feet at the same time. "Have you heard from Carmen yet?" he asked, concern etching lines into his forehead.

She shook her head. "No. But you should try to see her again after we're finished with Picard."

"I was planning on it."

"And Will…" Troi added, frowning. "Be gentle. I don't think she's going to take the news well."

"I know," Riker glumly replied. "I was planning on that, too."

* * *

First thing Riker noticed as he entered Carmen's cell was that all traces of blood had been cleaned from her walls. At the far end sat the young woman, her chin resting on a drawn up knee and a curtain of raven-colored hair around her face. Her burgundy uniform had been replaced with a plain gray one. She looked rested and freshened, and to Riker's relief, unharmed.

The commander strode over to lean against the same wall. She fiddled with the laces of her boot instead of looking up at him. "Hey," he said, clearing his throat. "You doing okay?"

"Yes." Her answer came unduly quick and harsh.

Riker cocked an eyebrow. "Carmen-"

"Why don't you believe him?" She hastened to her feet, finally meeting his eye with her blue, bellicose glare.

"What?"

"Alidar. Why didn't you stand up for him in there?"

Riker sputtered in surprise. "How do you know-wait a minute, Leyton's been by to see you, hasn't he?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"He had no evidence, okay?" Riker explained. "In fact, the only evidence we _do_ have points to all this being a charade."

"Alidar would never abandon his son. He's a good father. A good man."

"Then maybe his people used him. Used his good intentions. Either way, this was all a ruse."

"The counselor believes him, too. Do you make it a habit to ignore her feelings?" Carmen's tone sounded rather accusatory all of a sudden.

"Look, you don't know everything that's happened-" The beach and the moonlight flashed through the commander's mind.

"How could I? I've been locked up in here!" she fumed. "You're the one who passed me off to Campbell, remember?"

Riker blew sharply out of the side of his mouth. "Speaking of Campbell, I didn't see-"

"I'm not concerned about that anymore. Leyton took care of him."

"Leyton," the commander scoffed. "Yeah, of course he did."

Carmen's eyes narrowed. "What's your problem with him, anyways?"

He turned his broad shoulders and faced the young woman earnestly. "There's some kind of power play going on here, don't you see it?"

"Why, because he disagrees with you?"

"No, because he...he just seems strangely invested in you."

Carmen's sneer faded. "Yeah...yeah, you're right," she said, looking away. "Why should anyone be invested in me?"

Riker's heart sank. "No, that's not what I meant-"

"I think you should leave now, commander." She turned her back on him and paced to the other side of her cell.

"Carmen, please-"

"Guards!" she shouted, pounding on the door.

Riker balked. "Carmen? What are you doing?"

The door retracted and two officers entered. Carmen nodded towards the commander. "We're finished here."

"No, I'm not done yet." Riker insisted, standing his ground.

"Well _I_ am." She sent him one more bitter glare and then turned away as the guards moved towards him. Riker soon found himself standing both literally and figuratively outside of her walls.

* * *

 **A/N: Some of Alidar's dialogue here I've paraphrased from the show, including one of my favorite speeches from the series. It's the part about "a time in a man's life."**


	38. Misgivings

**A/N: Angel897-So happy you're still enjoying it :-)**

 **MonkaMoo-Hahaha your comment made me laugh so hard! She definitely is feisty ;-). And I know I said her age would be discussed in this chapter, but I'm actually going to put it in the next one, which will cover the hearing. I was originally going to jump straight into her hearing, but I liked this chapter too much so I decided to keep it. Enjoy!**

* * *

Riker made his way to a courtyard outside of council headquarters. The afternoon sun felt hot on his shoulders. The bay glistened like a jewel. A salty breeze combed through his hair. But calmer thoughts were replaced by troubled ones as he tried to wrap his mind around Carmen's sudden hostility.

"It went badly, then?" someone asked, almost reading his mind. His head whipped up to find Troi crossing the courtyard, her heels clapping against the polished stones.

"Afraid so," he said, lifting his hand so hers could slide into it. Together they turned towards a picturesque little path adorned with rose bushes and bellflowers. "How did you know?"

"I can't reach her anymore." Troi sighed plaintively. "I don't think she meant to block me out. But it's like she's walled herself in or something."

"It's Leyton, I'm telling you," Riker insisted. "He's got her fooled somehow."

"Leyton? What makes you say that?"

"She seemed defensive of him. I don't get it-why would she be acting that way after what he did to her? In her universe, I mean."

Troi's freee hand absent-mindedly brushed over the petals of a rose as they walked along. "Well, Carmen changed her mind about Alidar," she pointed out. "Maybe Leyton did something to change her mind about him, too."

Riker grunted. "And me." His eyes swept over the bay, searching for consolation.

"Will…" Troi wrapped her arm around his waist. "She's still hurting, that's all. I don't think she would give up on you that easily. Besides-" Something glinted in the depths of her dark eyes. "-would anyone be able to fool the daughter of William T. Riker that easily?"

The commander's chest swelled. "You have a point there."

They chuckled together, following the gentle curve of the walkway as it passed beneath a willow bough. Its long, low-hanging leaves formed a curtain of shade that breathed cool air across their skin.

"It's just that-" Riker brought them both to a stop. "I told her she could trust them, you know. I told her she could trust the council."

"As you should have."

"Yes, but...well, I'm starting to have some misgivings of my own."

"What do you mean?" Troi squeezed his hands, concerned by the graveness in his voice.

"They despise Alidar for his participation in the war, before the Treaty of Algeron was in place. What will they think of Carmen? Surely she's...she's done things like that."

"Yes, she has." Scraps of memories flashed through Troi's mind, memories that the young woman had inadvertently revealed.

"And the mutiny…" he said, trailing off.

Troi shut her eyes. "I have seen it, you know. It was terrible, what he did."

"He? Who?" Riker inclined his head quizzically.

"Wharton," Troi explained. "Did she not tell you about him?"

"She spoke his name. And she mentioned that there was a mutiny. But that was about it. She was a little drunk, you see. Didn't even remember telling me anything."

Troi breathed in deeply. "She will have to go over those events for the council. It's what led Alidar to destroy her ship. She will fight it, though. I know she will. What happened that day..." She shuddered, unable to finish.

Apprehension flared across Riker's face. "Picard said once that they have "methods" of getting the truth. I'm beginning to worry that this is the end of the line. That Carmen won't be returning to the Enterprise with us after all."

"I don't know what's going to happen," the counselor admitted. "But for now, we're still here. We're _all_ still here."

Her words echoed their conversation from that morning. Those moments of intimate solitude also echoed within the commander's mind. "Yes," he whispered, tilting her chin upward. "And we'll fight to keep it that way."

His lips gently met hers. A delightful shiver ran across her skin, cool as the shade they stood beneath. Then she returned the kiss, but without any of the gentleness. Her hands found their way beneath his shirt and ran up his back, searing his skin with the flames of a rekindled fire. They sank against the tree, its willowy leaves dancing in the breeze and hiding their passionate embrace from view. And the afternoon around them wore on, none the wiser.

* * *

Carmen's head began to feel heavy. It must be getting late, she thought. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Janaran Falls. She reached for its peace, feeling through the darkness of her mind. Images crept up out of shadowy corners, taunting her with death and gore. Just as she began to despair, the door to her cell slid open.

Carmen jerked away from the claws of sleep, staring towards the door with tentative hope. A man with a peppered beard strode in. Carmen's hope wilted. It was just Admiral Leyton. Still, she found herself surprisingly glad of his company. Or maybe it was just the thought of any company at all.

"Good evening, Miss Riker," he said, coming to a stop in the middle of the room with his hands clasped behind his back. "Thought you might care for some dinner."

"Can I go to the food hall again?"

"If you insist." He smiled at her cloyingly. "Mind if I join you this time?"

She eyed him dubiously. "Yes, I do mind. But you're an admiral. I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"No," he replied, the smile still glued to his face. "Resistance is futile."


	39. Trials and Triumphs

**A/N: Ahh I'm so excited for you guys to read this chapter! Thanks so much for the comments, they really keep me going. You guys are the best. :-)**

* * *

The food hall buzzed pleasantly with its usual dinner-time crowd. A fat moon rose outside the windows, casting its yellow net over the bay. City lights winked like the stars, burning brightly in the night. But Carmen watched the admiral with a wary eye, unable to appreciate these things nor shake a feeling of unease.

"What you said back there…" she finally said, speaking up for the first time since they had left her cell. "Why did you say it?"

"Say what?" he asked, pausing from his dinner mid-bite.

" _Resistance is futile_."

"Oh. It's just a phrase." His smile seemed innocuous enough. But it was in those moments Carmen wished she remembered how to use her mother's gifts. What if the commander had been right about Leyton? What if he was just using her? And to what end? Carmen shook her head in an attempt to clear her suspicious thoughts. Of course it was just a phrase.

"Anyways," Leyton said, clearing his throat while he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "It was very magnanimous of you to come here. I just hope that the council listens to you better than they listened to Alidar."

Carmen winced at the reminder. "That's it, then? They're finished with him?"

"Well, we still have to hear back from the probe that was sent to Nelvana III. We should get those readings tomorrow, some time after your hearing."

"My hearing is tomorrow?"

"Yes. Hasn't Commander Riker told you anything?"

"Uh...not really, no." Carmen looked down at her untouched dinner, halting the conversation from taking that course any farther. Thoughts of the commander and their falling out wounded her more than she cared to admit.

"Well, don't worry," he assured. "I won't let that Riker fellow discredit you so easily."

Something defensive and automatic flared in Carmen's chest. "He wouldn't discredit me!"

Leyton took a sip from his drink without any hint of hurry. "Are you sure about that?"

"He may question Alidar's motives, but he doesn't question mine. He knows why I'm here."

"Ah yes. The Borg Collective, right?" Leyton scratched at his beard, musing to himself. "Tell me, why do they call themselves that?"

"Because they have no individuality." Carmen snarled inwardly at the harrowing memories that floated to the surface.

"No individuality? Not even when they are alone?"

"They are never alone. They always act as a group."

Leyton leaned forward, a hungry curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "But what _if?_ How much danger would a singular Borg present, do you suppose? What makes it capable of communicating with the rest?"

Carmen sighed as she pushed her plate away, the mound of food now cold. "When will it be?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"My hearing. Will it be early?"

Leyton clasped his hands together in a reluctantly resigned fashion. "Uh, yes. They will speak with that Klingon first, what's his name…Captain Vullek."

"Vullek is here? Now?" Carmen lit up at the thought. "Will he be staying long?"

"No. Chancellor Gowron has requested that he return immediately."

"Oh." The young woman bit her lip. "But...you'll be there, right? At my hearing?" As her gaze returned to Leyton, a childish sort of entreaty lingered behind her eyes.

Leyton leaned back in his chair, a smile stretched across his face. "Yes, of course. You can't get rid of me that easily."

* * *

The next morning arrived, bright and early. But there were no windows within the courtroom, only slate gray walls and slate gray seats scattered with small crowds. Members of the Enterprise drifted towards the same corner as if carried on the same tide. Their bond was unique, having been forged through years of trials and triumphs in the wilderness of space. And so in a sea of unfamiliar faces, they remained close to one another out of some sacred, unspoken duty.

Vullek stood in their midst, bidding his farewells. He saved Worf for last, who seemed especially rueful. " _Qapla_ , brother," Worf said, slamming a fist against his chest. Vullek returned the words as well as the gesture. Riker stifled a smile, knowing it was an affectionate exchange in a Klingon sort of way.

Council members edged aside as Vullek headed towards two tall doors. Just as he reached their threshold, two guards entered with a young woman between them. She paused, her gaze fixated on the young warrior. " _Vullek?_ "

The Klingon held his head high and aloof. "Yes?"

"It's me! Uh, I mean…" Her face crumbled. "Carmen Riker. My name is Carmen Riker."

Vullek nodded respectfully. "The child soldier. You are the one behind those messages from Jarat's ship."

" _Hija,_ " she affirmed.

A pleased smile curled one corner of his lips to hear his native tongue. "Then I thank you for your role in preserving the Empire's honor. You have done well. I hope that your people can see that. _Qapla_ , Carmen Riker." He nodded again, this time a farewell.

The young woman tried to watch him walk away, but the guards prodded her on. She stumbled forward, her chest heaving beneath a great weight-the weight of knowing that their trials and triumphs meant nothing here. For that was not the Vullek she had come to know. He was just a facsimile, like everyone else.

The courtroom quieted down. The gray seats steadily filled. President Jaresh returned to his place at the head of the room, accompanied by a tall, slender alien. Something about this alien repulsed the commander. Perhaps it was the sickly, pinkish hue of his skin. Perhaps it was the way his eyes were entirely black, with no discernible pupils or irises. Perhaps it was the way he sat unmoving, his long, spiny fingers resting on the knees of his robe.

Carmen was led to the raised platform in the center of the room. Members of the Enterprise filled the stands to her left. Riker waited for her to look over, but she kept her attention carefully and deliberately forward. As Councilwoman Larousse approached, pointing her daggers for eyes at the young woman, Riker felt his heart rate rising.

"Good morning, Miss Riker," she said, no warmth at all in her smile. Carmen offered nothing in return. "Let's start with the basics, shall we? Date of birth, please."

"Stardate 26402.07."

"That would make you...nineteen, correct?"

Carmen shrugged. "If you say so."

"The questions will only get harder from here," Larousse warned, sending the young woman an icy stare. But Carmen did not shrink away. "Fourteen," she stated.

"Come again?"

Carmen gave the councilwoman a frigid glare of her own. "Most children of the draft did not live past fourteen. We all knew this. So after I turned fourteen, I stopped keeping track."

A few sympathetic murmurs rose up. Larousse ignored them and continued."Is it correct that in your universe, William Riker and Deanna Troi were your parents?"

"Yes."

"And they are both deceased?"

"I am an orphan, if that's what you mean."

"I asked if they were deceased," Larousse repeated.

"My mother was assimilated. So you tell me, is that considered dead or alive?"

Larousse nodded slowly, conceding the exchange. "I see. Unfortunately, we don't know enough about assimilation to ascertain that for now."

"Then let me tell you what you need to know-"

"We are getting there, Miss Riker." Larousse smiled again, to Carmen's chagrin. "So your mother was...assimilated, as you call it. What about your father?"

"Deceased, as _you_ call it."

Larousse glossed over her insolence. "How?"

"Does it matter?"

"Answer the question, young lady."

Carmen's hands curled over the banister in a menacing fashion. "We are wasting time on irrelevant details," she growled.

" _We_ will decide what is relevant," Larousse countered. "Now answer the question. What became of your father?"

"Madame Larousse-" Onlookers turned towards a man in the stands. He rose from his seat with a pacifying smile. "Perhaps we should move on."

President Jaresh waved Leyton off. "Please, Miss Riker. Just answer the question. We will get to the Borg, I assure you."

"He died in battle, okay?" Carmen huffed. "Only two years into the war."

"The Romulan War?"

"Yes. But it was not Romulans. It was the Borg."

Riker's eyes widened. She had never revealed any details about her father's death before, and he had never pressed her for them.

"The Borg? Why didn't they just assimilate him, like your mother?"

Carmen's grip on the banister tightened. She almost seemed poised to pounce. Riker gripped the bottom of his chair in kind. Larousse's questions were landing too close to her walls, he knew.

Suddenly, Carmen's eyes flicked to the stands for the first time. They made straight for the counselor. Begrudgingly, her posture eased.

Riker glanced sideways at Troi. "Did you say something?"

Troi nodded. "Yes. I wasn't sure if it would work. But I think I got through to her."

Riker blew out a sigh of relief. He reached over and clasped the counselor's hand as it rested in her lap, giving it a grateful squeeze. It was then he noticed that the tall, slender alien sitting at Jaresh's side seemed to be looking at the counselor, too.

"Miss Riker?" Larousse prompted impatiently.

Carmen turned towards her once more. The hostility drained from her demeanor. "Because mankind had become a thorn in their side. We had begun to fight back, to hunt them down in return. Therefore, those who would not go easily were slaughtered without mercy." Riker felt Troi wince at his side. No doubt Carmen's memories were flashing through her mind again. "We lost two-thirds of our crew that day. My father...he died making sure that we did not lose our captain as well."

Picard turned his head and met Riker's eyes. A silent, solemn understanding passed between them. Carmen's mournful tale had evinced the courage that Picard always suspected of lying just beneath the surface.

"And when did you join the war?" Larousse's detached voice broke the pensive silence that had descended over the court.

"I was drafted three years later."

"How old were you?"

"Twelve. And I was not the youngest to be sent by our council."

The chamber filled with incredulous murmurs. Jaresh's shoulders slouched in shame. Riker felt a tinge of hope for the first time. Despite Carmen's initial tone, the mood in the room had shifted in her favor.

"Was any training provided?"

"Yes. Anbo-jyutsu, jiu-jitsu, mok'bara, suus mahna...All day, every day, for twelve months. Nothing else was allowed to occupy our time. But I was in the first wave of drafts, you see. After that, they shortened the time to six months."

"Why?"

"Because we were running out of time. And ships. And soldiers." Carmen sighed despondently. "Basically, because we were losing. Haven One was the human race's only hope for survival."

"Haven One?"

"A new Earth. A place where mankind could start over. Its location was a closely guarded secret. After its inhabitants were selected and settled, the rest of us were left to fight in a losing war, knowing that even if we won, we had nowhere to go. It's why-" She stopped short suddenly, clearing her throat as if to retract her last two words.

But Larousse was hot on her trail. "Why what, Miss Riker?"

Carmen glanced over at the counselor again. Troi offered a small, encouraging smile.

"It's why I was so desperate to return to the Enterprise. It was the closest thing to a home I had ever known, and ever would know."

"I see. You were shipped out to a Klingon crew, correct?" Larousse asked.

"For six years, yes."

"And why wouldn't the council let you return to a human ship, to the Enterprise?"

Carmen's hands began to tremble. Riker could see Larousse's impatience building as several long moments passed. "Because of Picard," the young woman finally answered.

Picard straightened in his seat. His forehead furrowed as he tried to make sense of her answer.

"Explain," Larousse urged.

Carmen drew in a deep breath. "He knew my parents. He told me once that they were some of the finest officers Starfleet had ever known."

"Wouldn't he be glad of your return then?"

The young woman's face hardened. But not with defiance. Not with bravado. There was an age, a weariness beyond her years that settled over her visage. "My parents were no murderers. And that was what returned, not their daughter. That was all he could see." Picard's jaw clenched and unclenched several times. Tears glossed his eyes. Riker felt the same storm in his own chest. "Year after year, he rejected my petitions to come home. Then, finally, the council overrode him."

Larousse's eyes narrowed with intrigue. "Why?"

 _The mutiny._ Pieces of the story fell into place in Riker's mind. His heart ached for her.

"Because they were finished with him. He had fought their every decree. He had come to despise their leadership, despise the Federation that he stood for."

"They removed him from duty then, I assume."

Carmen flashed her a smile that brimmed with bitterness. "No, they never did their own dirty work."

Larousse flinched slightly as she caught the young woman's drift. It carried grave repercussions for her and the other council members. "Are you saying-"

"I'm saying that Picard was right to keep me away!" Carmen's voice rose on octave. "He was right about everything, don't you see? And they punished him for his compassion!"

"What do you mean?"

"The Romulans. He had saved the lives of three Romulans. It wasn't enough that they asked me to turn on him. It wasn't enough that they asked me to be a traitor. They wanted me to be an executioner as well." Carmen hung her head. "If only he had seen the mutiny coming. If only I had listened to _him_ that day instead of Wharton. Then my Enterprise would still be somewhere out there. Then Alidar would have seen his son again. We were so close to hope, and did not know it. We were so close to the first real allian-" She stopped abruptly, mortified by the impetuous flow of words spilling from her mouth.

A hush fell over the courtroom. Carmen backed away as Larousse approached. "Go on," she ordered. But Carmen shook her head, returning to reticence.

"Please, Madame Larousse." A man's voice broke through the tension. It was Admiral Leyton again. "She has been through enough. She is here to talk about the Borg. Shouldn't we let her?"

"Go on, Miss Riker," Larousse said, ignoring the admiral's plea.

Carmen's hand flew to her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and ground her teeth together as if caught in the grip of a sudden headache. Another voice drifted through the chamber, a voice that sounded to Riker like glass reverberating against stone. "For a Romulan? He died for a Romulan?"

The tall, slender alien at Jaresh's side had spoken. Carmen's palms pressed against the side of her head. She stumbled forward, her legs threatening to buckle. "Stop it! Stay out!" she cried.

Troi leapt to her feet. "Please! You must not do that!"

Larousse whirled towards her with a scalding look. "Counselor Troi, sit down at once or-"

A blood-curdling scream tore through the courtroom. A ghastly shiver rippled across the commander's skin when he realized that it came from Carmen. She writhed in pain atop the platform as scream after scream filled her lungs and every ear. Riker leapt over the banister without a second thought, racing to the young woman's side.

"What is happening? Stop this at once!" Picard bellowed, rising to his feet. The entire assembly jostled in alarm and confusion. Even President Jaresh looked bewildered by her sudden affliction. "Dejasa?" He shifted his attention to the alien beside him.

The alien's head drooped forward. Carmen's screaming stopped immediately. She rolled to her side, gasping for air. Riker's hand moved over her face and her hair in a desperate effort to soothe the young woman.

"I demand to know what that was about," Picard said, seething in outrage.

Jaresh's face pinched together sheepishly. "Dejasa is the court empath," he explained. "He was merely digging for the truth."

"She has Betazoid blood!" Troi's impassioned, indignant voice rang out. "Her mind is highly sensitive and untrained. You cannot force it open like that!"

"I assure you, we did not know he would have such an effect," Jaresh insisted.

Carmen groaned wearily. She pushed off the ground, hoisting herself to her knees.

"Stay down, it's okay," Riker coaxed, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"Stay down?" Carmen rasped. A deep rage smoldered within her eyes. " _Stay down?_ He violates me, and you ask me to stay down?"

"We will take a recess," Larousse announced, cracks showing through her composure. "I'm sure Miss Riker needs time to recuperate."

"Out of my way, commander," Carmen growled, shirking his hand from her shoulder. "I will only warn you once."

"Stay with me, Carmen. Please." But even as Riker pleaded, he could feel her retreating far beyond his reach, far behind her walls, preparing herself for battle.

She shoved him violently to the side and then sprang from the platform, towards Jaresh and Dejasa. Jaresh nearly fell backwards in surprise. A swarm of guards fled from their post at the door to intervene. She turned her fury upon them, quickly leaving three men in a crumpled, groaning heap before breaking free from their clutches. But this time she did not go for Dejasa. She made for the unguarded door instead.

"No! Stop her!" Larousse shouted. A couple of brazen council members tried to block her way, but she slid beneath one and then plowed through the other. She opened one of the doors just enough to slip through. It had barely closed behind her when Commander Riker pulled it open again, hot on her heels.


	40. The Aftermath

**A/N: Angel897-Thanks so much! Seriously, I look forward to your comment every time!  
**

* * *

Carmen flew down hall after hall, throwing chairs and side tables into Riker's path of pursuit. Startled bystanders leapt out of the way with cries of surprise. The gray halls soon turned to white ones, the same blinding white as her cell. Carmen wondered if that meant they were nearing the docking bay.

The young woman took a sharp left, her ebony hair vanishing around the corner. But as Riker rounded the same corner, a boot slammed into his face. He reeled backwards, staggering to keep from falling over.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed, wiping his nose and checking his sleeve for blood.

Carmen's leg returned to the ground. She faced him squarely, defensively. "Don't come after me, commander," she warned.

" _I'm on your side!_ " He took a step towards her. Carmen she took a simultaneous step back, maintaining the distance between them. Riker huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Where would you even go?"

"Doesn't matter; I told you, I can take care of myself," she sneered. He shook his head, bending over with his hands on his upper legs to catch his breath. To her vexation, a smirk crept across his face. "What? Is this funny to you or something?"

"No, no. It's just...I didn't take you for such a _bihnuch_."

Indignation blazed behind her eyes. "I am no coward!" she fumed.

"Then why do you keep running?"

Her jaw worked furiously for words, but it took a few tries. "I-because-you don't get it, okay?"

"Then explain it to me, Carmen. Stay here and explain it to me." He straightened back up. Despite the sternness of his voice, his gaze had softened considerably. One of his hands reached for her shoulder, but she withdrew another few steps.

"No. I've done enough explaining."

Undeterred, Riker advanced towards her yet again. "Fine then, run. But I'll just keep finding you. You know that, right?"

Carmen halted in her retreat. It was as if his words had struck down the hardened soldier, and in the soldier's place stood a forlorn child. "Wh-what did you say?" she stammered, sudden tears shining from her blue eyes. Her father's promise echoed loudly in her head.

"I'm not giving up on you, okay?"

"Why not? You heard what I am!" Carmen's anger struggled for one last foothold.

But a faint smile curved one side of Riker's mouth. "I heard it all, yes. And I'm still not changing my mind."

"No, not all of it." Shame flickered across her face.

"It's okay," he assured. "Come back with me. Be brave for just a little while longer-"

"I killed him, commander."

His feet and his blood froze at the same time. "What? Who?"

Then a clatter somewhere behind the commander gave them both a start. Riker threw a quick glance over his shoulder. "No! Stay back!" he shouted to the host of guards bearing down on them. But it was too late. The soldier returned. Her mouth clamped shut, pulling into a tight, determined line. Her legs coiled beneath her.

"Carmen, wait!" Riker shouted, making a desperate grab as she bolted away. But his fingers snatched empty air. She had fled beyond his reach once more.

* * *

Back in the courtroom, Jaresh finally recovered from the shock of events and stood to address the assembly. "Stand by everyone. Please. We will reconvene at a later hour. Picard-let us speak about this more privately."

As small crowds began to trickle through the tall, double doors, someone pushed past them on their way in. Troi hurried to her feet. "Will!" She held her breath with tentative hope. But the answer was written plainly on his face. She sank back into her chair, mirroring his disappointment.

"Number One-" Picard waved him over. "No luck then?"

Riker's eyes flicked to Jaresh, then back to Picard. "I was close, I really was. But then security frightened her away again."

"Frightened?" Larousse repeated dubiously. "Three of our officers are on their way to the infirmary right now! I don't think fear is her problem. She is an ill-tempered, rebellious-"

"Weren't you listening to anything she said?" Riker interjected, shifting his stance to face the councilwoman. "Surely you can see a reason she'd want to rebel!" Larousse shrank away from his towering figure.

"Will, please," Picard scolded in a hushed tone. Then he turned his attention towards Jaresh. "I was assured that these proceedings would be civilized," he stated, a dignified anger tightening the features of his face.

"You have my word, we did not anticipate such a...such an outcome."

"I tried to warn you," Troi pointed out, coming to the commander's side.

"And how could _you_ have known?" Larousse scoffed, prompting Riker's temper to flare again.

Picard held up a hand in his first officer's direction, a silent, stern warning. "Troi is the Enterprise's counselor," he explained. "And she has a special connection with the young woman. It would be prudent of you to trust her in these matters, as I have come to trust her."

"A special connection?" Jaresh lifted his chin, intrigued. "How so? Can you...communicate with her? Telepathically, I mean?"

"Yes."

"What about now?"

Riker and Picard both turned towards the counselor, the idea just now dawning on them as well. But Troi clicked her teeth. "I've been trying. I don't think she can hear me, though. When her instincts take over, it's like she closes everything else off."

"Sir-" A handful of guards stood in the threshold of the emptied chamber. The small party turned around.

"Where is she? Do you have her?"

The guard shook his head. "No, sir. We uh, we lost track."

"Seal off all exits," Jaresh ordered. "And send out an alert."

"Yes, sir."

"Dejasa!" Larousse said suddenly. "His empathic powers are much greater than your counselor's. Dejasa, could _you_ reach her?"

"I could," he replied. "But it would hurt her again."

"We'd know where she is, at least."

"No." Riker shook his head vehemently. "We can't do that to her. Please, captain. Let me look for her."

"I will help you," Troi offered.

Picard hesitated. "It is not my decision," he said begrudgingly.

Someone behind the party cleared their throat. Riker turned his head, bristling at the sight of Admiral Leyton. "I implore you to listen to them, your honor," he said. Surprise replaced the commander's surliness. "Let them find her. After all, she would be useless to us if we returned her by force."

"What makes you so sure she wouldn't be useless anyways? You saw her behavior here!" Larousse retorted.

"The Borg, Madame Larousse." Leyton's voice turned sharp as a reprimand. "This is about the Borg. If they truly are somewhere out there, then we'll need her."

"Why?" Larousse shot back. "It didn't sound as if her people were winning that war."

Leyton held his ground. "Yet somehow, they survived for that long. She was a soldier. She knows how to fight them. _We_ don't."

Riker cocked an eyebrow. So that's why Leyton was so interested in Carmen. But why turn her against him? What threat did the commander pose, if all Leyton wanted was information? There had to be more to it.

Jaresh nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yes. Yes, you are right. Commander Riker, Counselor Troi-I am placing you in charge of locating her."

"Thank-you, sir," Riker said, feeling a flush of relief.

"But if you fail-" Jaresh continued. "We will have no choice but to use our own means." Though he didn't say it, Riker knew he meant Dejasa. He met Troi's eyes with the same grave understanding. They had better hurry.

* * *

"I am already late! You would insult the Klingon Empire and hold me here against my will?" Vullek towered over a human officer who had just informed him that his vessel was being grounded.

"It has nothing to do with you, sir. They are looking for someone-"

"Exactly, that has nothing to do with me! Let me and my men go!"

"Perhaps if we could just search your ship first-"

"Search my ship? You think Klingons are not capable of handling their own security?"

"That's not what I meant-"

"Then move aside! I have more important things to do with my time than argue with you."

"But-but-"

"I said move aside." Vullek's dark eyes bore fiercely into his. The officer gulped, wavering. He had his orders, but then again, what kind of a fool would run onto a Klingon ship for safety?

"Y-yes, sir," he conceded, ducking his head and moving to the side. Vullek snorted victoriously and then stormed up the gangway of his ship, calling orders to his men to finish readying the vessel.


	41. No More

**A/N: So this site is kind of glitchy, and it hasn't been sending out email notifications consistently for my new chapters. It's been doing that for several stories that I follow, too. Bummer! I've also been unable to log in for several hours at a time here and there, I just get a weird error message. Hopefully you are all able to read just fine, though. Anyways, here's another chapter that I'm super excited to show you! Angel897-can't wait to hear what you think! :-) And MonkaMoo, based on one your comments, I think there's a part in here that you'll love. :-) At least I hope so!  
**

* * *

Vullek settled into the raised command chair that sat, imposing and throne-like, at the center of the bridge. As his helmsman began to fly their craft out of the docking bay, Vullek cast his gaze to a small platform in front of the bridge doors. A lone figure leaned against the bulkhead, holding onto a railing with one arm to brace against the vessel's sway.

"We cannot go far. I will have to drop you off in the city," he said.

Carmen's jaw slacked, parting her lips. "Drop me off?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"Oh."

The Klingon cocked his head to the side. "You...were expecting otherwise?"

"I was sort of hoping to stay."

"Here? On a Bird-of-Prey? Ha!" Though Vullek laughed at the notion, there was a hint of intrigue behind his amusement. His dark eyes studied her unabashedly. Carmen felt a pang of disappointment, the sharp prick of something lost, to find no hint of recognition in their depths. "Chancellor Gowron would have my head if I interfered any more than I already have. But you...you are very different from other human females that I have encountered. Are you sure you are not part Klingon?"

A rueful smile twisted her lips. " _YIdoghQo_ ," she replied. "Perhaps in another life."

Vullek chuckled again. "Well then little warrior, I hope we meet again someday."

* * *

Morning turned into afternoon. Afternoon stretched into evening. Just as the sun stooped down to kiss the bay, Riker and Troi returned to council headquarters in need of food and a plan. "I don't understand," Riker grumbled, taking a seat at the foot of Troi's bed. "She can't have gone far. We must have missed her somehow."

Troi sat down beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "We'll keep looking. And I'll keep listening."

Riker nodded slowly. His mind drifted back to Carmen's final, ominous statement. "Deanna…"

She turned her head, staring up at him expectantly. "What is it?"

"You've...seen things, right? Things that she's done?"

"Yes."

"She said something just before she ran off again. That she…" He drew in a deep breath. "...that she killed someone. Is that what she was trying to hide at the hearing?"

The counselor bit down on her lip. "Yes."

Riker felt suddenly nervous. "She said something about how Picard had rescued a few Romulans. And something about how the council asked her to be an executioner. Did she..." he trailed off, unable to put the words in order.

"Here. I will tell you what I saw." Troi took one of his hands in hers and grasped it earnestly. "After she helped Wharton take control of the Enterprise, they found out that Picard had been leading the Enterprise towards a rendez-vous with a Romulan Warbird."

"Why would Picard want to do that?"

"Because he was not the only one who had grown weary of war." A bittersweet smile flashed across Troi's face. "The Warbird belonged to Alidar, you see. His son, Toleel, was one of the rescued Romulans."

An wave of nausea hit the commander. "Toleel…" He wanted to ask if it was him, if Toleel was the one Carmen had killed. But he waited patiently for Troi to unravel the series of ugly events.

Troi closed her eyes, summoning the young woman's memories back to mind. She could still see Toleel cowering beneath Wharton's massive figure. She could still hear Carmen pleading for the lives of the Romulans…

 _"They are defenseless. There is no honor in this."_

 _"Honor?" Wharton laughed stridently. "Do you hear yourself? What do you think you are, Klingon? You are a traitor, Riker! You've already lost your honor!"_

 _Carmen winced with shame. As she lowered her face, unable to reply, she found Picard staring mournfully back at her. "No more, Wharton," he said. "No more children have to be lost to this war." His voice, normally steady and dignified, trembled on the verge of breaking. His eyes glistened with an apologetic sort of anguish._

 _Wharton clicked his tongue, refusing to engage the former captain. "Let me put it this way for you, Riker…" He crossed the floor with two long strides, coming to a stop before the conflicted young woman. "You finish the job, or I'll make sure you never set foot on the Enterprise again."_

 _The room began to spin. At least that's what it felt like. Carmen's mind raced. She had done everything-even betrayed her captain-just to be home again. Could she let it all be in vain?_

 _"What's the hold up?" Wharton shoved his phaser into her hand when she did not draw hers. "Get on with it! Now!"_

 _Her chest pounded with every heartbeat. "Listen…" someone said. Her eyes followed the voice. "Listen," Picard repeated. "As your mother used to."_

 _Carmen despaired. It was no use; those abilities had been buried beneath dozens of dead soldiers, beneath every enemy she had forced herself to see as just an enemy. But the Romulan before her now was not a soldier. He was a child. Innocent. Frightened. Just like she had been once. She didn't need to use her powers to know how that felt._

 _The phaser clattered to the floor. "You heard the captain," she said. "No more children have to be lost to this war."_

 _A spark of hope glowed like an ember in the corner of Picard's mouth, which pulled back into a faint smile. But before Carmen had time to smile back, she felt a massive hand shove her to the floor._

 _"Out of my way, then!" Wharton bellowed, picking up the phaser._

 _"No!" Carmen tried to shout, but the wind had been knocked from her chest. She saw the phaser's cruel end point towards the trembling boy. She saw a flick of motion and a bolt of energy fly forth._

 _Picard fell lifelessly to the ground. Toleel bent over him, unscathed. He shook the captain's shoulders in an attempt to rouse him. Carmen looked on, held captive and in place by a harrowing helplessness._

 _"For a Romulan?" Wharton's jeer shattered the stunned silence. "Picard died for a Romulan? And in vain, too."_

 _The phaser fired again. Toleel crumpled to the ground beside the captain._

 _"Nooo!" The two other Romulans surged forward. Two more times the phaser discharged. The brig filled with the sound of a roar, the sound of fury and disgust and mourning all in one cry. Carmen leapt from the ground and bore down on Wharton. The phaser turned on her, too, but too late. It went off just as she knocked it from his hand. Then she dove for his legs and they sailed to the ground together._

 _They rolled along the brig floor in a vicious battle of fists and skill. But Wharton was much bigger and much stronger. It was not long before he had her pinned beneath him, his knees digging into her ribs. His monstrous hands went around her throat. Her mouth gasped for air that would not come. The brig faded to black. A terrible ringing filled her ears, the sound of bells proclaiming her death. She raged against defeat with all her might, but it crept closer and closer and closer._

 _"Get off of her!" she heard Laforge cry. He sounded a million miles away. Then the pressure lifted. Air rushed into her lungs like fire. A series of violent coughs rattled her chest. Though everything in her vision swam dizzyingly, she could see Wharton and Laforge locked in a fight to the death. But once again, Wharton was the bigger and stronger opponent._

 _Carmen glanced about for the phaser she had knocked from Wharton's hand. There it was, laying on the far side of the brig. She tried to come to her knees, but they collapsed beneath her. Laforge was running out of time. And she was too weak to reach their only hope for winning against a brute like Wharton._

 _Then she remembered-and felt like a fool for not remembering sooner. Wharton had shoved his own phaser into her palm. Hers was still holstered at her side. Her hand flew to its sleek curve. But then it paused. Carmen found herself bewildered by her own reluctance. Wharton was a monster. And she had killed many a monster before. Why was it so different now?_

 _Wharton slammed Laforge onto the ground. Then, with one knee on the lieutenant's belly, his fist crashed into his head again and again. Laforge wouldn't be able to take much more. Carmen closed her eyes. She felt the phaser in her hand release its charge. And then one more lifeless body joined the others on the brig floor._

 _Carmen sank onto her back. The ceiling above her shimmered and swirled like a mirage. If only this was all a mirage._

 _"Commander Riker?" A small voice came through her combadge. She swallowed hard and then answered._

 _"What is it, Adler?"_

 _"The Warbird is closing in. What do we do?"_

 _Carmen groaned. Her troubles were not over yet._

 _"Is Alidar here?" Laforge's shaky voice drifted across the brig._

 _Carmen's head whipped to the side. She immediately regretted it, for her vision spun with the motion. "How did you know his name?" she asked._

 _"Picard had planned to meet up with him." Both of them winced at the mention of their captain. Carmen shut her eyes to keep from looking over at his body._

 _"Wh-why?"_

 _"To send the Romulans home. Toleel is...was...his son." Carmen squeezed her eyes shut even tighter._

 _"Commander Riker?" Adler's voice sounded again._

 _"I'll be right there," she snapped. Then she rolled over to her stomach, pushed herself up, and willed her feet towards where Toleel had fallen. "Geordi-can you come with me? We need to tell Alidar what happened."_

 _"Yes, of course. What are you doing?" He watched as she slid her arms beneath the Romulan boy and struggled to lift him._

 _"I've left enough children behind. I'm sending this one home."_

* * *

"She beamed Toleel's body over to his father's ship," Troi continued. "Then she and Geordi pleaded with Alidar to carry on Picard's plan for an alliance. But Alidar was too overcome with grief. He vowed to destroy the Enterprise, to show them no mercy the way his son had been shown no mercy. Carmen and some of the others jumped into fighter crafts to try and break down the Warbird's shields. But Alidar kept his promise. In fact, it was a piece of the wreckage, a piece of the Enterprise, that sent Carmen's fighter spinning off into space-and into the path of our Enterprise." Troi finished with a deep sigh, expelling the air from her lungs and making room for the hurricane of emotions that blew over from the commander.

"And we brought her right back to them," he said finally, bitterly. "We brought her right back to the people who were gutless enough to send children to fight their battles for them."

"No. Not the same people," Troi reminded him. "Those things haven't happened here. And we'll make sure that they don't."

Riker's face softened with a small smile. He pressed a kiss against her forehead, comforted by her stout conviction. "There are a lot of things that haven't happened here," he said. Regret seeped into his voice, and into his smile as well. "You would have made a great mother, you know."

"I know," she quipped, grinning back at him. "But don't forget-it was my decision, too."

"Well, you're a natural-at least with Carmen. Whereas I somehow made a mess of things."

Troi laughed sympathetically. "That's not true, Will. You saw how she took to you. You've just never been a father before."

"Oh, and I'm one now?" he replied, jokingly at first. But a silence followed, growing more and more meaningful as their minds travelled towards the same thought.

"Maybe Carmen isn't the only one getting a second chance," Troi stated, gently breaking the silence.

Riker nodded, still steeped in their new realization. "Yeah. Now come on, let's grab something to eat and then find our daughter."

* * *

Night had hovered over the city for several hours. Council headquarters sat quietly, darkness peering out of almost every window. But one office remained lit and occupied. Admiral Leyton sat before a screen on his desk, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to ensure he was alone.

"What do you mean she's gone?" a man's voice asked, coming from the screen. "How can we do this without her-"

"He'll find her, don't worry!" Leyton assured. "I've heard of Commander Riker's persistence."

"And Nelvana III? Was there any truth to the Romulan's story after all?"

"The probe's data came back. Nothing. Nothing convincing, at least."

"I could have made it convincing, you know."

Leyton snorted. "They have an engineer with them-a fellow by the name of Laforge. He's a sharp one. Could probably spot faked data from a parsec away. No, we need something better than that."

"Like what?"

Leyton's features darkened. "Something drastic. Something that the rest of the council won't be able to dismiss so easily."

"How drastic?" A hint of apprehension entered the other's voice.

The admiral leaned forward, staring hard at the man with sandy-colored hair on his screen. "I just hope you're prepared to do what is necessary, Wharton."


	42. Home Run

**A/N: Next chapter (after this one) is that Riker family scene I promised earlier where they all get a turn at being bad ass haha. I hope you guys are enjoying this so far!**

 **WIWJ and angel897-thanks for the comments! :-)**

* * *

It was a surprisingly chilly night. Players stood in the outfield, jumping from foot to foot to keep their muscles warm. Metal bleachers lined a corner of the field, scattered with idle onlookers. Big lights shone over the game, bright as day, to ward off the darkness that pressed in from above. But Carmen found it difficult to ward off the darkness within.

She sat alone in the bleachers, trying to focus on baseball. She could feel the counselor's presence searching for her somewhere in the space of her mind. As much as she longed for Troi's comfort and company, she refrained from making herself known. No doubt Troi would just try to convince her to come back.

A shiver seized the young woman's body. Her gray uniform was made for the holding cells, and therefore did little to keep out the cold. And, like the cold, a pervasive loneliness crept down into her bones. She had hoped that the drawl of the crowd would make her feel less alone, but she had been wrong. It only made her feel more alone. There was no home for her here, or in her universe for that matter. Wherever she went, Carmen found herself utterly and achingly alone.

"Hey!" a voice called. She ignored it, figuring it wasn't for her. But when someone sat beside her, she leapt to her feet in surprise.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" A young man with chestnut brown hair and chestnut brown eyes stared sheepishly back at her. She recognized his face from Ten Forward, but couldn't bring his name to mind.

She sat back down slowly, a scorching scowl planted on her face. "You didn't scare me. You startled me. There's a difference."

"Oh. Sorry." He flashed her a nervous but amicable smile. "So are you uh, here with anybody?"

"No."

"Me either."

Her scowl turned into a sneer. "Don't you have friends or something?"

"I'm new, remember?" He shrugged, then pulled his jacket tighter around him. "Geez, it's cold. I forgot how freezing an ocean breeze can feel after dark. I was a California native, you know, before I joined the Academy."

Carmen sighed peevishly and hugged her arms tightly against her chest. "So what are you sitting here for? Go spend time with your family."

"I don't have one anymore."

His admission cut her to the core. She looked over and saw him pursing his lips together, bracing himself for the obvious next question. Yet Carmen never asked.

"Neither do I," she simply said, and turned her attention back to the game. But she wasn't really watching the players anymore. Instead, she found herself musing about this soft-spoken stranger. There was a naive sort of benevolence about him, and Carmen felt it drawing out a natural protectiveness in her. His presence no longer became an irritating, intrusive one.

She cleared her throat. "I uh, I don't remember your name."

"It's Sheppard," he offered, smiling. "Allan Sheppard. Yours is Carmen, right?"

She nodded. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, yeah!"

"Do you know where Alaska is?"

"What?" he blinked several times, caught off-guard by the abrupt subject change.

"Alaska," she repeated. "Where is it?"

"It's...pretty far from here. Why?"

She clicked her teeth, disappointed. "I wanted to go fishing."

"Fishing…?" Her answer thoroughly bewildered him. "Well uh...the bay has a few good spots-"

"No," she stated with an air of finality. "Not the bay. It has to be Alaska. Anyways, what about pubs? Any good pubs in this city, or has the council forbidden such fun?"

Sheppard scrunched his face at her. "Fun? I thought those were just places for drunkards."

Carmen burst out laughing, furthering the young man's bewilderment. " _Baka_ everyone in this Starfleet is so straight-laced," she said, half a snort interrupting her laugh.

A hint of amusement flickered across Sheppard's confusion. "What language was that?"

"What?"

"You just said something-baka?"

"Oh!" She grinned deviously. "Sorry. Klingons aren't exactly poetic."

"Klingons?" It seemed like every answer just prompted another question. But at least her words flowed freely now.

Thunderous cheers erupted from all around them. Onlookers rushed to their feet as the ball flew so high over the outfield that it disappeared in the blinding brightness of the lights. "Home run! That's going to be a homerun!" Sheppard cried delightedly. Both he and Carmen came to their feet as well, gripped by the excitement of the moment. "Go! Go!"

The player rounded first. Then he rounded second. Just as he rounded third, the ball came back into view, sailing into the pitcher's mitt. "He's not going to make it," Carmen breathed.

"He can do it, he can do it…" Sheppard bounced on the balls of his feet, brimming with anticipation. The player dropped into a slide as he neared homebase, kicking up a flurry of dust that swallowed the ball mid-flight. Everyone in the crowd held their breath at the same moment.

"SAFE!" rang out the umpire's call. Cheers exploded from the stands. Sheppard turned towards the young woman, his face beaming. _Safe._ The word resounded in Carmen's head.

* * *

Riker and Troi made their way down a smoothly paved path that followed every curve of the coast. They expected to find Carmen brooding in some place of solitude, and the beach offered many such places.

Troi stopped abruptly. Riker made it several steps ahead before he noticed. "Deanna?" he called back, alarmed by her sudden absence.

"Baseball," the counselor said. Her cheeks hinted at a smile.

"What?"

"Carmen is thinking of baseball," she explained as Riker drew close. "She's finally letting her guard down. Hold on." She strained her mind, reaching out for the young woman. _Carmen? Can you hear me?_

The pleasant images of baseball faded away. _What do you want? c_ ame the not so pleasant answer.

 _We're worried about you. Please tell us where you are._

 _Look, it's...it's best you forget about me, counselor. We were never meant to know each other._

 _And yet here we are. After everything that has happened, you would throw it all away?_

 _I'm sorry. Really, I am. Tell the commander for me, okay?_

 _No. If you have something to tell him, then you should tell him yourself. Where do you want to meet?_

Nothing.

"Will, we have to hurry. Are there any baseball fields nearby?"

Riker pulled a screen from a satchel that was strapped across his shoulder. "The Bailey-Brayton Playing Fields are a few miles inland. Think she's there?"

"Yes. But not for much longer, I'll wager."

* * *

"Look at that guy on first. I think he's gonna try and steal second. See the way he-Carmen?" Sheppard found that an unsettling change had come over the young woman. She stared straight ahead, eyes glossy and unseeing. Not a single muscle in her body moved. "Carmen?" he tried again.

"Shhh." She held up a finger, silencing him. "I'm talking to someone."

"You're-? Oh, okay." He shifted on the cold, hard bench, trying to get comfortable with what she just said. Out of the corner of his eye, he cast her a furtive glance.

Dark hair draped over one shoulder, its long and unruly waves nearly touching her lap. Her eyes were strikingly vivid, and hard as two blue stones. But the curve of her cheek was a gentle one, a feminine one, with a certain elegance that belied her temper. Still, the young man found her rough edges just as intriguing as her smooth, supple ones.

"I have to go," she said, suddenly snapping alert.

"Go?"

"Yes. The commander will be here soon."

"As in Commander _Riker_?" Sheppard balked. "Wait-you can talk to him like that?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. A hearty laugh fell from her lips. "Can you imagine? I'd hear his lectures round the clock!"

Sheppard shook his head. "Well there's only one inning left. Won't you...um...stay?"

She gave him a smile that seemed sincerely rueful. "I wish I could. I mean it. It's just...I have to go. Good-bye, Sheppard." And she was gone.

* * *

"Do you see her?" Riker hurriedly scanned the crowds. "Is she nearby at least? Can you tell?"

Troi shook her head. "No," she answered, biting down her lip.

"I'll go around towards this end of the field. See if she isn't watching from somewhere other than the bleachers." Riker headed off without further ado.

Troi searched the faces of onlookers one more time. Then she saw a familiar one among the sea of strangers. She made her way up the stairs to where a lone figure sat near the end of an aisle.

"Good evening, Allan!" A young man with wavy, chestnut brown hair looked up.

"Counselor Troi! Hey!" he greeted. "I didn't know you liked baseball!"

Troi took a seat beside him. "I don't know anything about it, actually," she admitted. "I'm here looking for someone. Maybe you can help me. She's just a few years younger than you, with long black hair and blue eyes. She's probably wearing a gray uniform-"

"Carmen?"

"You _have_ seen her!" Troi's face flooded with relief. "Will! Over here!" She waved down Riker, who came jogging up the steps of the bleachers. Sheppard grimaced at his approach.

"Oh, hello, sir," he said, hoping the commander didn't remember him from Ten Forward.

"Where is she?" Riker demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.

"She just left, maybe fifteen minutes ago." Sheppard's eyes widened as it finally dawned on him. 'Is she...is she the one they're after? The one from...from…"

"Where did she go?" Riker leaned closer, looming over the young man as if it were an interrogation.

"I don't know, I'm sorry," he said, cringing with the admission.

"Well did she say anything?"

Sheppard chewed on his lip, recalling their peculiar conversation. "She...mentioned Alaska. Said something about fishing."

"Fishing?" Troi's face wrenched with confusion. But Riker straightened and slowly folded his arms across his chest.

"Curtis Creek," he mumbled. "She meant Curtis Creek."

"But isn't Alaska pretty far away?" Troi asked.

"Yeah, I mentioned that. Oh! And then she asked if there were any good pubs around."

Riker blew out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "Of course she did!"

"What did you tell her?" Troi pressed.

"That I thought those were just places for drunkards."

"Thank-you, Allan." The counselor squeezed his arm gratefully. "Enjoy the game! I'll see you at our next session?"

"Yeah sure." Sheppard tried to smile, but couldn't hide his inner conflict. "Hey counselor, is she in trouble?"

Riker helped Troi to her feet. "She'll be in more trouble if we don't find her. Now let's go." The commander turned towards the stairs, Troi a quick pace behind him. Then he noticed that Sheppard had climbed to his feet as well. "What are you doing?"

The young man froze. "You said...um...you said let's go."

"I was talking to her."

"Oh." Sheppard promptly sat back down, his cheeks blushing a deep shade of red. "I'll just...yeah, I'll stay here."


	43. Throwing Punches

**A/N: judygrasham-Ahh I loved seeing your review this morning! Thanks so much! I'm seriously flattered :-). It's funny you should mention LOTR, that's one of my all-time favorites! I guess I'm drawn to those tragic sort of characters. And it's true-actually, Carmen has a line here that touches on what you said. Also, it's like you knew where I was going because I think this next scene will fulfill your drunk and disorderly idea. ;-) I do love Worf, and Klingons in general lol. I think he will get more time in the next "episode," considering how much he and Carmen have in common. Seems like they would naturally make good friends. That's a cool idea, though, to do a one-off short story with him. I'll brainstorm! Thanks again! I hope you keep enjoying the story!**

 **angel897-haha I'm so glad you like Sheppard! We'll definitely be seeing him again. :-p And thanks for the faithful comments!**

* * *

A smoky haze clung to the air, dimly illuminated by yellow lamps. Rowdy patrons from just about every unscrupulous race in the galaxy (but mostly mankind) crowded around little tables. The more solitary creatures hunched over a bar in the back that halfway hid in shadows.

Carmen turned in her bar stool, sweeping the room with a watchful eye. The stool groaned wearily beneath her, having spent too many nights in a place of ill-reputation. She was about to return to her brandy and brooding when her gaze landed on a familiar glass structure. It sat alone and off to one side, surrounded by several empty chairs. Carmen shook her head with a wry laugh. Tri-dimensional chess. Even in a degenerate corner of the city, she couldn't escape reminders of the Enterprise.

For some reason, she found herself walking over to take a seat in front of it. She set her brandy down and picked up one of the pieces, turning it over and over in her hands. The polish had long since worn off. And though its edges had been dulled, she could still tell it was a knight. A knight who had seen more glorious days, no doubt.

Someone sat down on the other side of the tower of chess boards. Carmen replaced the knight and reached for her drink, not feeling up to a match or even a conversation. But her hand froze just as it touched the handle of the mug.

"Commander," she said with a stiff nod.

"Carmen." He nodded back. She narrowed her eyes, waiting for a reprimand. But instead, he merely sighed deeply and settled back into his chair.

She puffed her chest out impatiently. "I'm not going ba-"

"White or black?"

A few moments of puzzled silence filled the space between them. "...What?"

"Here," Riker offered. "Take white so you can go first. That way you can't complain that I had an advantage when I win."

Her nostrils flared. "You want to play games, then?"

"Just one. Give me one match before you leave for Curtis Creek."

Her eyes briefly widened. "How did you-?"

"Go. It's your turn."

Carmen squared her jaw. The Troi part of her knew he was just pulling her strings, but the competitive, Riker side clamored angrily. She glanced at the door and then back at the chessboard. "Don't get comfortable, commander. This won't take long."

Then she picked up a pawn and made her first move. A smile snaked its way across Riker's face as he made a move of his own. Back and forth their hands flew to the boards, sometimes moving a piece horizontally and sometimes shifting levels. Eventually Troi appeared with some drinks in hand. "Here. Try this," she said, setting one down at Carmen's elbow and pushing the brandy out of reach. "It's tuber root tea."

"I don't need any tea," Carmen grumbled.

"She needs help is what she needs. Her knight over there looks a little worried."

"You're bluffing."

"Oh?" Riker pushed a hand through his dark hair. At the same time, his thumb scratched absent-mindedly at his ear.

She smirked at the sight of it. "My father taught me poker, remember? I know all your tells." She snatched one of his pawns from the bottom board.

"Come on. You're starting with the Kriskov Gambit. Way too predictable, Carmen. Always so predictable. That's how we found you as easily as we did." He set up a counter move with his rook, which cleared a path to her knight.

Riker's taunt, and his counter, wiped the smirk from her face. She hesitated just a moment, then moved her knight out of harm's way, slamming it down in triumph.

Riker clicked his tongue. "See, your problem is your temper. You let everything go to your head. You start acting on impulse, and the next thing you know-" He picked up a white chess piece. "Someone's taken your queen."

Carmen's face ruddied furiously. "Shut up and play, commander," she growled.

"I'll shut up and _win_."

" _Hos ly' dalo'ha'chu_..."

"Watch your language."

"Watch your rook." Carmen snatched his rook away with her next move.

A couple of feuding voices rose sharply nearby. One drunk accused another of something untoward. The second drunk took a swing at the first. A clumsy fight ensued. Troi edged closer to Riker, watching the brawl nervously. But neither he nor Carmen seemed to notice. Suddenly one of them tripped, and the brawl came crashing down onto the chess tower. Pieces flew all over the place. Each glass level shattered into a million pieces.

Carmen leapt back from the destruction, her eyes ablaze with fury. " _Maw'tok!_ Look what you've done!" she cried.

"What did you call me?" The more alert one climbed to his feet, swaying but still managing to keep a bellicose air. He was taller than the commander, even as he slouched, and his threadbare clothes bore stains of every kind.

"Something wrong with your hearing, old man?" Carmen took a few brash steps in his direction.

"Whoa, whoa!" Riker pulled her back. "Come on, let's all keep a level head."

"And what are _you_ looking at?" The man sneered at Troi now, who had clutched one of Will's arms. "Hey Dodge, look at this frightened little filly over here."

"Call her that again!" Carmen snarled, rushing at the drunk anew. Once again, Riker pulled her back.

The drunk laughed raucously. "What's that, your attack dog? Put a leash on it, eh?" Carmen spat out a string of barely coherent expletives.

"He's not worth it," Riker urged, his arm beginning to ache from the effort of holding her back.

"So we got a filly, a dog, and this one here's a chicken! _Bawk, bawk!_ " The drunken man made a drunken impression. Riker's eyes narrowed.

Next thing anybody knew, Carmen flew forward, barrelling into their antagonizer full steam. She knocked him to the ground, straddling his chest and assaulting him with a flurry of blows.

Riker grinned back at Troi, intensely smug. "Oops. Lost my grip."

But the counselor didn't look very amused. "You know very well you did _not_. What happened to keeping a level head?"

Another drunk grabbed Carmen around the waist, peeling her off. Then he slammed her onto a table, which buckled beneath the force.

"Hey!" Riker barked. The drunk turned around, right into Riker's fist. He went down like a pile of bricks.

Carmen laughed delightedly from the broken, jagged remains of the table. Her face shone with the purest kind of joy. "That's it, commander!" she cheered.

It wasn't long before another scoundrel tried his luck. Riker ducked under his oncoming fist and slammed into his midsection. Both men crashed to the ground and were immediately buried beneath two more drunks looking for a fight.

"Stop it! All of you!" Troi shouted. But Carmen climbed to her feet and leapt gleefully into the fray. "Carmen! You too!"

"Aww, come on, sweetheart." A particularly malodorous drunk slung one of his arms around the counselor's shoulders. "Let them have their fun."

"No thank-you," Troi protested, trying to wriggle free.

"Baby, baby," he said, gripping her tighter. "Where you tryin' to go?"

"Give him a right hook, counselor!" Carmen hollered from beneath a pile of ruffians.

"Now let's all be civilized-" Meanwhile, his hand had been migrating downward. When it reached her backside, she spun around and hooked him with her right fist.

"Yes!" Carmen broke free from the skirmish. "Then while he's doubled over like that, you can do this-" She came over and drove an elbow onto his back. He sprawled across the floor with a groan of pain. "See? That way-" Someone tackled her from behind before she could finish her sentence.

"I said be _civilized!_ " Troi roared, scruffing Carmen's attacker by the collar of his shirt and ramming his head into the wall.

Carmen beamed from the floor with a proud, surprised smile. "Now you're speaking their language!"

The bar descended into complete and utter chaos. Every time Riker found himself at a disadvantage, Carmen would appear as if somehow summoned. She'd stave off new assailants until he could recover, and then vanish into the mayhem once more. She must have been a valuable asset in battle, he realized with a touch of admiration.

Riker kept a close eye on Troi, but to his amazement, she actually seemed to be enjoying herself. Gone was the mild-mannered counselor, and in her place stood a ferocious pugilist with a penchant for smashing chairs over people's heads.

Then the back doors burst open. A massive, infuriated Andorian emerged. "Get out of my bar! All of you!" he bellowed, muscles rippling beneath his hide-like blue skin. Three more Andorians fanned out behind him, heavy clubs swinging from their hands.

 _That's our cue_ , Riker thought, making his way over to Troi. "Come on, Deanna! Time to go."

When she caught sight of the Andorians, the mild-mannered counselor returned. "Agreed. Where's Carmen?"

"Ah, here she is!" Riker scooped up the still-brawling Carmen and flung her over his shoulder, carrying her out the door despite her disappointed protests.

Troi followed quickly at his heels, and together they made their way down the long, crooked street. Echoes of the fight faded farther and farther into the distance. At long last they stopped, ducking into a little side alley to catch their breath.

Riker set the young woman down on her own two feet again. "Boy, that was fun!" she exclaimed, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a sleeve. "Counselor, where did you learn to hit like that?"

"Well I am a Starfleet officer, you know," she replied, taking mock umbridge. "But...Will showed me a thing or two back in the day."

Carmen laughed heartily. "And commander, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that wasn't your first bar fight."

Riker grinned sheepishly. "Maybe. Maybe not. Hey-" His face drew taut with sudden concern. "You're bleeding!" He grabbed hold of her chin and examined a long, jagged gash that ran across the bridge of her nose.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, shoving his hand away. "Didn't even break anything. Other than a few tables and chairs, I mean." A lopsided grin of her own flashed up at him.

"Yeah, but that's going to need stitches," he remarked. "Come on. Let's see if Dr. Crusher is still awake."

Carmen's grin faded. As Riker moved towards the street, she took a step back. "No. I can take care of myself, remember?"

He paused. All light-heartedness seemed to evaporate in the blink of an eye. "You don't have to, Carmen," he said. "You don't have to be alone anymore. Now let's go."

The young woman bit her lip and took another step back. "I can't."

"You can't?" Riker's voice raised in exasperation. "Or won't? Why do you always insist on making things hard for yourself?"

The lines around Carmen's mouth tightened with anger. "Don't you get it? I lost them all. I can't keep pretending like I didn't. Like none of that happened. Because no matter what I accomplish here, nothing changes over there. I _am_ alone."

"You're still fighting, that's what you're doing. But you're fighting against the wrong things, damnit." He advanced on her with several long strides and took hold of her slender shoulders. "We're still here, Carmen. We're right in front of you. I know we aren't your mother and father, but we don't have to be strangers. We don't have to be _nothing_."

She glared at him hard. Every word threw a punch, and every punch landed against her walls. "I can't...lose it all again." Tears broke through her defenses, but she refused to acknowledge their existence with a wipe of her hand.

"Then _that's_ when you fight." Riker's arms dropped back to his sides. "But not alone. Let us fight with you this time."

Troi touched him on the shoulder. "Come on, Will," she urged softly. "It's her choice to make. Not ours."

Riker looked at the counselor, a protest on the tip of his tongue. But begrudgingly, he conceded. She had never been given many choices before. Sometimes she had never been given a choice at all.

"Twilight," he said, turning to leave. "Twilight's the best time to catch trout along Curtis Creek."

* * *

Council headquarters came into view, tall and glistening against the darkness of the sky. Riker and Troi had made the walk in silence. "This is it, I guess," the counselor sighed.

Riker wasn't sure if she was talking about Carmen or the fact that they had reached their destination. "Shall we-" He froze. "Wait, what's that?" A shadow pulled away from the base of the building. "Or rather, _who's_ that?"

The shadow stepped into a pool of streetlight. It was a young woman with raven-colored hair and a long, jagged gash across the bridge of her nose. Bruises and grime marred the rest of her features.

"What took you so long?" she called, grinning wryly. "I've been waiting for you for ages."

Riker laughed under his breath, relieved and incredulous all at once. "Come on, let's go inside," he said. "You look terrible."


	44. Kinds of Company

**A/N: Zara08-Yay! I'm glad you liked the chapter! And thank-you :-) I devote a lot of time to writing, probably more than I should haha. And it blows my mind that anybody even wants to read my stuff! I really appreciate all the comments and encouragement. Makes me want to write even more.**

* * *

 _It's amazing how therapeutic hot water can be_ , Carmen thought to herself as she stood beneath the showerhead in Troi's quarters. Clear, piping hot water rinsed off the dirt, the grime, the blood, the strife. She felt almost invincible, if only for a few minutes.

Stepping onto the cool tile, she found that Troi had left a gown for her to wear. It sat near the sink, folded in a silken, purple pile. Carmen picked it up dubiously. A few moments later, she poked her head around the corner of the doorframe. "Um...counselor?"

Troi looked up, in the process of tidying her small living quarters. "How does it fit?"

"Well, I think I'm wearing it wrong." She stepped out so the counselor could see. Thin straps ran over her ivory-colored shoulders, clasping to a modest neckline. The gown hugged the small curve of her bosom and then flared out, its lacy hem falling just below her knees.

"Why do you say that? It looks gorgeous!"

"But the zipper...it's in the middle of my back. How is that practical?"

Troi laughed, a pleasant and delicate sound. "Here, take a seat. I'll do up your zipper and then think of something to do with all that hair."

Carmen sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders squared and rigid.

"Relax," Troi urged.

"I feel ridiculous."

"Well you look beautiful."

Carmen's grin was a sardonic one. "The Klingons always used to remind me of how ugly I was. No cranial ridges, flat teeth, pale skin."

"Yes but you fit that gown much better than a Klingon would." They both giggled at the thought of a Klingon wearing something purple and silken.

Carmen closed her eyes as the counselor's fingers wove through her hair, pulling it back into a high braid. Her touch was tender, soothing. A peacefulness emanated from her like gentle ocean waves lapping at the shore. _I can remember around you._

Troi smiled. _You mean your gifts?_

 _Yes. I thought I had forgotten. The Klingons...they looked down on that part of me as well._

 _Some races find such abilities rather intrusive._

 _I found you that way at first._

Troi finished the braid and tied up the end with a matching purple band. "I'm sorry," she said softly but aloud. "I never meant to be intrusive."

"No, no, it's okay. I don't mind anymore. In fact, I've come to like it."

Just then, Dr. Crusher's voice came through a little speaker beside the door. "Deanna? Will told me what happened."

"Come on in!" she called.

The door slid back. Crusher and Riker both stepped inside. "Wow!" the doctor gushed. "Purple really suits you!"

Carmen's hands fidgeted in her lap. "I'm fine, doctor, honestly. You didn't have to come here," she deflected.

Riker leaned one shoulder against a nearby wall and folded his arms. His face looked clean and washed and he was sporting a fresh uniform. "Just be thankful she's sparing you the lecture. I already got mine."

Carmen laughed. "A taste of your own medicine, huh?"

Riker scowled back at her. But a grin soon took the scowl's place. "She's right though. You look...pretty."

Carmen fought to keep a flattered smile at bay. Meanwhile Crusher began her work, scanning each wound with a handheld device and nodding at their readouts. Then she set about taking care of the open gash and a few other bad scrapes. "Well," she said after a time. "I think that about does it. Deanna, your turn."

"I think she somehow fared the best," Riker laughed. Carmen nodded approvingly.

"You're right," Crusher said, a device trilling in her hand. "Just some bumps and bruises. But no more bar fights. That goes for all of you."

"Yes ma'am," Riker quipped.

"Or bars, for that matter." She threw a pointed glare at Carmen. "Now get your rest. I'll see you all later."

"Thanks, Beverly." Troi walked her to the door and they each bid her good-night. Once the door had closed behind her, Troi turned back to the other two. "Well, I still need to shower off. I'll only be a few minutes." And with that, she disappeared behind the walls of the bathing area.

Carmen ran a hand over her braid, feeling the counselor's work. "Hey, commander?"

He walked over and sat beside her on the edge of the bed. "What is it?"

"How did you know I was going to Curtis Creek?"

Riker clasped his hands together and blew out a sigh. "Well, we ran into...what's his name again...Adam?"

"Adam?" She stared blankly back at him.

"Yeah, scrawny kid. Brown hair. Baseball game."

"Oh, _Allan_ ," she corrected.

"Sure, Allan. Anyways, he said you mentioned Alaska."

"But I didn't mention Curtis Creek."

"I know." The commander smiled broadly. "I made that connection on my own."

"So you grew up there, too? Like my father?"

Riker nodded. "Used to go fishing at Curtis Creek all the time. It was my favorite place to be alone."

"Do you ever miss it? Alaska, I mean?" Despite how mature the gown made Carmen appear, her questions held a note of childish curiosity that tugged at the commander's heart.

"Not really, no. After awhile, being alone just felt...lonely," he admitted.

"So you chose life on a spaceship? Don't you think space is lonely?"

"No, space is a different kind of solitude. You think you're alone, but then life has a way of being found in the most unexpected of places. Like when you're on a god-forsaken planet in some god-forsaken system, and then someone's shuttle comes crashing onto the surface."

She blew out a short laugh. "Yeah, yeah."

"There's just so much to learn. So much to see. But the more you learn, and the more you see, the smaller you feel. It's humbling and empowering all at once. It's the most amazing frontier man has ever been on. And it's an honor just to set foot out there."

Carmen could feel her father's spirit moving in his words. And something flickered deep inside, a small, kindred flame that burned with her father's passion. It had dimmed after so many years behind her walls, but she could feel it growing stronger now. She scooted closer to the commander's side.

"And what about your father?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I met him once; I was so little, I barely even remember. But there was a...a coldness between him and my dad. He never told me what happened. Or why he never went back to Alaska."

"Yeah, we don't exactly see eye-to-eye," Riker retorted.

"Why not?"

"See...my mother died when I was little. And he shut everyone out after that. I had to learn a lot of things on my own. I think it's why...well, why I've been afraid to be a father myself."

"Afraid? You?" she balked.

He laughed, flattered. "Yeah. What if I turn out like him, you know?"

"Well you didn't. I mean _he_ didn't. My father lost the woman he loved, too. And while he wasn't exactly open about certain things, he was always there for me when it counted. We used to do everything together. I never knew what loneliness was until…" She shuddered involuntarily as an ugly, familiar image came to mind.

Riker's gaze softened. He waited patiently for her to continue, afraid that if he said anything she might retreat again. "He promised to always find me," she said finally, quietly. "And then one day...he didn't. The day the Borg attacked us. I ran to sickbay, thinking maybe he was just injured. I found him there, sprawled on one of the cots. I...I tried to grab his hand. I wanted to wake him up so he could tell me everything would be okay. My empathic senses could barely handle that sort of widespread panic, and he always knew how to calm me down. Then someone pulled me away."

"Why?"

"It had been a close-range shot. They didn't want me to see, but...I still see it."

Riker closed his eyes, feeling her pain, her loss, as if it were his own. "I'm so sorry, Carmen," he whispered.

"No, it's...it happened years ago. I had to learn a lot of things on my own, too."

Somewhere in the silence, a bond quietly but undeniably latched, forged by the solidarity of their tragedies. And then she spoke again. "Commander? I don't think I'll get to see Alaska for myself. Could you...maybe...tell me about it?"

Riker drew in a long and deep breath. "Sure. Well...it has mountains big as the sky. Forests and rivers everywhere. If you visited in the winter, you'd think the whole planet was covered in snow, there's just so much of it. Even the ground is frozen. Tundra, they call it. One morning everything is green and gold, the next it's only white. The snow hides all of your familiar paths and turns the trees into strangers. And yet...as unforgiving as it can be, there's something beautiful about it. Something that makes you appreciate its company. Especially when no other company is around."

Carmen sank into his side. Riker looked down at the top of her head, surprised. As he moved his arm out of the way, debating whether or not to put it over her shoulders, he heard a soft snore drifting up.

"Did she fall asleep?" Troi asked, appearing in a new, clean gown.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said. Riker moved slowly up off the bed, guiding Carmen down at the same time. Troi pulled the blankets around her and then pressed the back of her hand against the young woman's forehead.

"Her mind is at peace. The nightmares won't come tonight." She smiled over her shoulder at the commander. "You did well."

Riker shrugged it off. "So now what?"

"Now we follow the doctor's orders and get some rest. Which means you'll have to sleep in your own quarters tonight."

He realized then that it would be his first time since they had arrived on Earth. Troi followed him to the door, but instead of saying good-bye, she kissed him slowly, deeply. As she pulled away again, a certain light danced in the commander's eyes. "You sure you don't want to come by my quarters? Just for a few minutes?"

Troi threw him a playfully stern look. "We need our rest, Will. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. For all of us."

The reminder quickly cooled his blood. "Yeah. You're right," he said, trying to conceal a sudden surge of apprehension. "Tomorrow's the real fight."


	45. The Differences

**A/N: QueenDuffy-Thank-you so much! Your words mean a lot to me :-). I'm so excited that you're hooked! Hopefully you continue to like it!**

 **Angel897-You're so awesome :-)**

* * *

Crimson clouds leapt up from the horizon like flames to engulf the sky in a violently beautiful sunrise. Gilded light marched through the streets, vanquishing any shadows that dared to linger from the passing night. Carmen gazed raptly at it all from Troi's window at council headquarters. She closed her eyes as a breeze blew over her, teasing the long, ebony strands near her face. It carried the scent of salt and the ocean and freedom.

"Your pancakes are getting cold," Riker remarked.

"What?" She opened her eyes again and looked down at her half-eaten breakfast. "Oh. Right."

"Would you like something else, perhaps?" Troi asked, swirling an edge of her pancake in a lake of syrup. "Toast? Cereal? Krada legs?" Her eyes glinted with mischief as they darted over to the commander.

Riker threw her a dirty look. "As the highest ranking officer present, I hereby ban krada legs from my sight."

Carmen giggled. The morning had thus far passed calmly, contentedly. As soon as she and Troi had risen and donned fresh uniforms, Commander Riker appeared with breakfast. It almost felt like a normal morning-a new, blissful definition of normal, that is. "Don't worry, I'm fine with pancakes. It's just…" Carmen's eyes returned to the crimson clouds. "I haven't seen many sunrises before. Are they all like this?"

Troi followed her gaze. "Well, I've heard that sunrises and sunsets are prettier near water."

"And what is the water like? Is it warm? Have you been down to the beach yet?"

Riker coughed on a sip of orange juice, clearing his throat with such vigor that it turned his cheeks pink. Troi's hand froze halfway to her mouth. "The beach? Yes, we um, we took a walk to the beach the other night," she replied, her voice slightly higher than normal. "It was...nice."

"Just nice?" the commander mumbled. Troi nudged him under the table in a silent scold.

Carmen felt an awkward change in the air. She looked between Riker and Troi, bewildered by their reactions. But both seemed rather intent on their pancakes all of a sudden.

"And what about Janaran Falls?" Carmen asked, steering the subject away from the beach since they were clearly uncomfortable with it. "Have you seen any sunrises from there? I imagine it would be even more beautiful."

Riker had just taken another sip of orange juice when he found himself choking yet again.

"A few, yes," Troi answered. She tried hard to suppress the evocative memories floating up, not wanting the young woman to inadvertently catch a glimpse.

Carmen nodded slowly. Apparently the change of subject didn't work. "Have you been there, commander?" she inquired.

"What? Janaran Falls? Oh, uh, yeah." He bent over his breakfast, his cheeks a lively shade of red.

"Really? You've been to Betazed?" Carmen leaned onto her elbows. To Riker's chagrin, she appeared intrigued.

"In fact," Troi interjected. "He used to be stationed there. It's how we met."

"It is?" Carmen's face beamed in light of this new revelation. "I wonder if...I wonder if that's how my parents met, too." A hint of sadness entered her smile, but only for a fleeting moment. "I would like that, I think. When you showed me the falls, it felt...well, it felt like home."

"Must be your Betazoid blood," Troi said, smiling in return. Her demeanor relaxed as she realized that Carmen was no longer on their trail. "And I haven't forgotten my promise. We _will_ go there someday. Together."

Carmen shifted in her chair excitedly. "Hey commander?"

Riker's head popped up. "Hmm?"

"Would you...you know...would you come with us?"

The earnestness of her invitation tugged at his heartstrings. "Of course," he answered. "That is-" He flashed the counselor a devious grin. "So long as Ambassador Troi isn't there."

"Ambassador Troi?"

The counselor tilted her chin up, musing. "You haven't met my mother, have you?" Carmen shook her head.

"Good thing, too," Riker snorted. "I mean, you've been through enough!"

Troi slapped his arm, but it only made him laugh. "They don't exactly get along," she explained to the puzzled young woman.

"Why not?"

Riker was quick with an answer. "Even Picard runs and hides when she visits! She's nosy, pretentious, has no filter, never asks permission-"

"Please oh please can I meet her?" Carmen begged, her eyes shining eagerly.

It was Troi's turn to laugh now. "Great job discouraging her," she quipped. Riker grumbled something under his breath, and both women giggled some more.

" _Number One?"_ The captain's voice cut their laughter short.

Riker straightened and gave his combadge a tap. "Yes sir?"

" _The council is preparing to meet. They are about to send for Carmen._ "

He met the young woman's eyes and felt a surge of protectiveness when he found them filled with apprehension. "I'll bring her in myself, sir," he declared.

" _I thought so_." They could hear a sad smile enter Picard's voice. " _But don't bring her straight to council chambers. I'd like to speak with her first_."

Carmen's stomach churned. The morning's contentedness had come crashing down around her. Then she felt a hand on her knee.

 _It's alright._ Warm reassurance emanated from the counselor. _We have your back. Picard does, too._

* * *

"Y-you wanted to see me, sir?" Carmen slid around the open door frame, coming to a stop just inside the threshold of the captain's quarters. His room had been christened with the best view, and morning was on full display outside a massive window to their left.

"Have a seat," he offered, gesturing towards a curved, beige couch. "Would you like any tea?"

Carmen nodded despite the fact that she had never liked Earl Gray tea. But the thought of having something to grip was a comfort to the nervous young woman. She sat on the couch and presently accepted a hot mug from the captain.

He sat down in a padded chair across from her and blew gently over his own mug. "Had an adventurous night, then?" he asked, taking note of her bruises.

She cringed. "Uh...you could say that, sir," she replied, hoping he would not ask her to expound.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Must run in the family."

Carmen tilted her head, wondering if _he_ would expound. But for several moments, nothing else was said.

"I'm sorry," she suddenly blurted out, surprising both of them.

"For what?" Picard raised an eyebrow.

Carmen's heart pounded. _For letting you believe in me_ , she wanted to say. But what came out was: "For a lot of things, sir."

The captain's face clouded over. His fingers absent-mindedly tapped the sides of his mug. "Carmen, I...I heard what he said to you."

Her eyes narrowed quizzically. "Sir?"

"The Picard that you knew. I saw you put him in the brig. And I heard the things he said to you."

It felt as though someone had punched her in the chest. Carmen sucked in a breath, trying to keep her lungs from caving. "But...what? How?"

"Dejasa. When he invaded your mind, he found those memories. And the council has a way of...displaying...what he finds."

"I don't understand." Carmen's head spun. She felt dizzy, nauseous. She gripped her tea tighter lest it fall from her trembling hands.

"I've never seen anything like it," Picard continued. "Dejasa can project the images onto a screen of some sort. They use it in highly contended criminal proceedings, as memories are more reliable than testimony. In your case, they wanted to see your universe for themselves."

Anger stormed through Carmen's heart. She looked away, disgusted. First the alien had violated her mind. Then he paraded her naked memories before a room full of people. Something ached as she called to mind what Picard must have seen. What Picard must have heard.

"He was right," she hissed through clenched teeth. "About me. I am a murderer. A traitor. And…" She squeezed her eyes shut to hold the tears at bay. "...if you don't want me to set foot on your ship again, I understan-"

"He was wrong."

Carmen peeked one eye open. "Wrong?"

"You couldn't do it. You couldn't kill the Romulans."

"But I killed Wharton. You had to have seen that part." Her forehead furrowed with guilt.

"Yes. And I felt that rage-the rage you must have felt."

"Rage is no reason. It is _never_ a reason."

"But he slaughtered them! I saw that, too!"

"And one more death did not make it right. It gave their souls no peace. Nor mine."

"He would have killed you as well, no doubt!"

"He was a member of Starfleet!" Carmen slammed her mug down, half rising out of her seat. Tea sloshed over onto the little glass table that sat between them. "And he was following orders! Always, he followed his orders. That was the difference between us, you see."

She glared bitterly at the captain. But to her surprise, he leaned back with a smile. "Yes. I know, Carmen. I know." He drew the tea to his lips and drank.

The anger slowly seeped from her face. She lowered herself back to the couch as it dawned on her-he had been riling her deliberately all along.

"That was indeed the difference," Picard continued. "You tried to do what was right, even when it went against your orders, your training, your new captain. You tried to do what was right, even if it meant never setting foot on the Enterprise again. Too many lives were lost that day, but you must not carry the weight of them all. You are not a monster, Carmen. You are exactly the kind of person I want aboard my ship."

Carmen's jaw fell open. " _What did you just say?_ " she rasped.

Picard set his tea down. Then he leaned forward, clasping his hands together as they hung over his knees and fixing his gaze on hers. "If the council allows it, will you return to the Enterprise as part of my crew?"

Tears burst forth, her pride no longer a sufficient dam. She hung her head and wiped them from her cheeks with a sleeve. His words had left her walls lying in ruin around her heart. "Yes, sir," she whispered. "It...it is all I want."

Picard nodded approvingly. A smile shone from his eyes. "Then we'll find a way to make it so."


	46. See

**A/N: Zarah08-I know, right? Hahaha :-p**

 **Angel897-Your review made me laugh! It would be great if she could get a swing at him. But she has other plans, which you'll find out about in this chapter :-). I was thinking of how fun it would be to include Deanna's mother sometime in a future episode, since I believe she and Carmen could really wreak havoc together. I will have to try and think of something if you like that idea :-).**

 **bnewall1-Aww, thanks so much! I was so happy to see your review! I've got more Picard/Carmen scenes coming up, too. Hopefully you like those as well! :-)**

* * *

A stifling silence greeted Carmen and Picard as they strode into the chambers. Carmen walked a respectful pace behind her captain, following him to the raised platform in the center of the room. He nodded towards its steps. The young woman ascended them alone. Her countenance bore no hint of an apology, and her gaze swept over the stands as though she were directing the trial, not the subject of it. The commander grinned to himself. Whatever Picard said to her had stoked a brazen fire behind her eyes.

Picard cleared his throat. "I would like to remind you that Miss Riker is here of her own accord. And that her endeavor is no different from ours: to preserve peace while it is still within our grasp. As we ask her to be open and amenable, let us return the favor. Let peace begin here, among friends and allies."

Carmen's eyes slid briefly to the side, towards the commander. Troi gave his hand a squeeze. "Will…"

"Did she say something?" he asked, keeping his voice to a hushed whisper.

"Yes. She said she has made up her mind."

"About what?"

"I don't know. But she also said that you must not interfere."

The warning jostled Riker's nerves. Before he had time to ask anything else, however, President Jaresh took the floor. "Thank-you, Captain Picard," the Grazerite said, waving him towards a seat. "I can take it from here."

"Yes, your honor," Picard replied. He joined the stands where other members of his crew had already gathered, sitting down between Dr. Crusher and Lieutenant Laforge.

As Jaresh made his way towards the young woman, it became apparent that her attention was fixated on the alien behind him. Dejasa sat, silent and stoic, beside the president's empty chair. "Miss Riker," Jaresh hailed. Carmen's eyes snapped towards him. "We ended on an unfortunate note last time. Please understand that it was not our intention to harm you."

"I understand," she replied, her voice unexpectedly cordial. "You wanted to see for yourself."

"Yes. Yes, and we _did_ see."

A sly, cloying smile twisted her lips. "Do you wish to see more?"

Jaresh paused. Riker's blood ran cold.

"More?"

"More. I can show you what my council asked of us-what they _truly_ asked of us."

Jaresh balked at the idea. "I don't think that will be necessary-"

"Necessary?" she scoffed. Her cordiality vanished quick as her smile. "You have not tasted the same desperation, the same failure, as my council. How can you even know what that word means?"

Jaresh fumbled for an answer. "Well uh, your council-they-they made a call. An unfortunate call. We all agree it never should have come down to children-"

"Unfortunate?" Carmen laughed out loud, making a few council members shift nervously in their seats. "Another word you cannot know the meaning of! Yes, they made a call. And then they fled to safety, never to see the horrors they left behind for us." Her eyes blazed across the room once more. "Well I don't want any of you to have the same luxury. I want to make sure you see those horrors, as I have seen them. Because the day may come when _you_ have to make a call. And if you are wrong about Alidar, then that day is already on its way."

An unsettled murmur rippled through the stands. Jaresh tugged anxiously at the front of his robe. "Miss Riker...are you saying...do you wish for Dejasa to re-enter your mind?"

"Yes. And I am aware of what that will do to me."

Riker's chest tightened. He started to climb to his feet, but Troi pulled on his arm. "Do not interfere," she reminded him.

Conflicted, he stared at the young woman standing alone in the center of the room. "But...she can't!" he argued. "You saw what happened last time!"

Jaresh looked imploringly to the rest of the council. No one dared to pitch in. "I am sure about this," Carmen promised. "And...it will give you a chance to see the Borg for yourselves."

Admiral Leyton perked up for the first time. "The Borg?" he echoed.

Carmen turned her head towards him. "Yes. I will show you the Borg."

The admiral licked his lips. "Your honor, surely we have nothing to lose by respecting her wishes?"

Riker's glare turned sharp as daggers. No, _they_ had nothing to lose. But Carmen's mind was still just as sensitive, just as untrained. And she was asking them to trample through it. "You don't have to do this, Carmen," he urged, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "Please. Don't do it."

But Carmen ignored him. "Go ahead, Dejasa. Get it over with."

Dejasa looked to Jaresh. Jaresh wavered for a few moments, then finally nodded. Carmen gripped the banister, bracing herself. A subtle shiver ran through her body as Dejasa's attention turned on her like a spotlight.

"Wait!" someone cried out. All eyes flew to Dr. Crusher. "This is just...this is silly!" Carmen scowled fiercely at her, but the doctor carried on. "Isn't there something I can do? Dejasa, would it still work if I sedated her first?"

The alien's large eyes blinked several times. "I believe so, yes."

Carmen's scowl turned into a sheepish, grateful grin. The commander sank back in his seat with a sigh of relief. Leave it to Dr. Crusher to be the sensible one.

"Very well," Jaresh said. "Dejasa, Dr. Crusher-take Miss Riker here to the medical wing. The rest of us will wait in the viewing room."


	47. The Color Red

Riker drummed his fingers against his leg, waiting for the doctor to appear. He sat with the others in a circular, windowless room. Tiers of gray seats curved along one wall, facing a black, concave, screen.

At last, two doors beside the screen opened. Dr. Crusher and Dejasa walked in. "How is she?" Troi asked, climbing to her feet. "I can't reach her anymore. Is she-"

"She's fine, she's fine," Crusher assured, resting her hands on her hips as she approached. "She did well. I gave her something strong, so the pain should subside before she wakes up again."

"Thank-you, Beverly." Picard rose next to the counselor. "Come, have a seat. I was told it won't be much longer." He held out a chivalrous hand, which Crusher gladly accepted. Then they all resumed their seats, and their waiting. A grim, anxious silence settled over the room. Every moment eked by like an hour.

At long last something flickered briefly across the screen, wavering in and out. Riker cast a questioning glance at the captain. "Just wait," Picard ordered. "It is remarkable. We will see everything Carmen saw, and hear everything Carmen heard."

The screen eventually morphed into a single, dark image. A silhouette of some kind came into view. As the details sharpened, Riker realized it was the silhouette of a tree. Barren, twisted branches swayed overhead. White clumps of snow drifted through a black sky. Then the view lowered as Carmen shifted her position. Riker could see now that she was hunkered down between two massive roots. A snug pile of children slept soundly at her feet, their snores rising up and getting lost in the whistle of the wind. It was a peaceful scene, though Riker swore he could feel the chill of the cold, hard ground seeping through his uniform.

One of the snores began to grate unpleasantly. "Peterson!" came the chide of a little girl. "Stop snoring!" She was a wisp of a creature, with short, amber-colored hair and constellations of freckles across her nose.

"I'm not snoring, _you're_ snoring," a smaller boy retorted. Curls of cinnamon brown hair peeked out from beneath his hood. He pulled it tighter around his head and rolled over with a yawn.

"Would you quit moving?" a third complained. He was older than the other two, but didn't look a day above nine.

" _Sujatlh'e'ylmev_ , all of you!" Carmen growled.

"Miss Riker, what does that mean?" the girl asked.

"It means shut up," Peterson replied, matter-of-factly. "K'adan taught me that one. He also taught me _ha'dibah_ , which means-"

"Peterson!" Carmen interrupted. "Don't ever repeat anything K'adan says, understood?"

"Why not?"

"Because he has the mouth of a _tahqeq_."

"Miss Riker, what does _tahqeq_ mean?" The little girl's eyes shone with childish curiosity.

"Come to think of it, don't repeat anything I say, either," Carmen added. A round of laughter rose up, brightening the dark night around them. Riker chuckled from the viewing room. "Alright, alright," Carmen grumbled as the laughter trickled off. "Now get back to sleep."

"I'm too hungry to sleep," the older boy whined, rubbing his empty belly.

Carmen threw him an unsympathetic glare. "That's because you didn't finish your dinner, Morrow."

"But it was worms again!"

" _Gagh_ ," she corrected. "It's called _gagh_. And it's good for you. Puts meat on your bones."

"Why can't we ever just have like hamburgers or something?" Peterson suggested. The other children sighed wistfully.

"With ketchup! Don't you miss ketchup?" The little girl sat up onto her elbows. "I bet gagh would taste a lot better if we had some ketchup!"

"I'll tell you what-if you guys quit yapping and go to sleep, then _maybe_ I'll see about finding some ketchup at the next trading post."

"Oh please, please!" Peterson cried, lighting up at the prospect.

"I said maybe! Now go to sleep, before you wake every Romulan in this _hu'tegh_ of a place."

The children settled down once more, excited smiles plastered on their faces. Carmen's view raised to the branches bending in the icy wind. The enormous tree sulked beneath winter's siege, moaning for the touch of the sun.

"Miss Riker?" It was the little girl again.

"What is it, Baker?"

"I'm cold."

Carmen sighed, annoyed, but pulled her up closer and slung an arm over her scrawny, shivering body. "There. Not another word now, understood?"

The child nuzzled into Carmen's side. "Thank-you, Miss Riker," she whispered.

Snow continued to fall all around them. The wind hurled itself against the tree, but its frigid fingers could not reach the pile of children nestled into its roots. Each breath formed little puffs of mist that hovered above their lips for a few seconds and then faded into the night like a ghost.

Riker felt a growing sense of dread. He wished that the scene would end there, but knew that Dejasa had picked that memory for a reason. Troi wrapped her arm around his, squeezing his hand with the same dread.

A noise snapped their attention back to the screen. It was a rustling sort of noise-the sound of hurried footsteps across the forest floor. Carmen bolted to her feet. "Get up!" she ordered. The children grumbled unhappily as they were jostled from their comfortable, tightly curled positions. "Shush, shush. Did you hear that?"

Each paused, straining to listen past the howling of the wind. Carmen's vision lifted above the edge of the roots to the white dappled woods beyond. Riker leaned forward, trying catch a glimpse of some impending danger. But there was only snow and dirt.

"Go," Carmen said, her voice sharp as a knife. "Back to camp. Do you have your weapons?" The children nodded, producing small, modified phasers from the thick folds of their clothes.

"Good. Keep them close and find Kilath."

"But Kilath will be furious if we wake him up," Morrow protested.

"He'll be dead if you don't."

Their faces paled in the wake of Carmen's words. They climbed to their feet without further argument and withdrew quietly, disappearing into the darkened woods and down a nearby slope.

Carmen stood guard all the while, a gun-like weapon levelled on the edge of the tree root. Once they were out of sight, she drew a communicator close to her mouth with her free hand. "Vullek. Wake up."

"I am already awake," came the irritated answer. "Those children of yours are stomping down the hillside like a herd of frightened targ."

"They are not _my_ children. And I think someone is watching us. Come quickly."

"On my way, Mother Riker."

Carmen snorted in reply, then continued her vigil from the safety of the tree roots. It wasn't long before Vullek appeared. Out of the corner of his eye, Riker saw Worf shake his head incredulously. The Klingon on the screen looked exactly the same as the one they had just met. Yet there was something inexplicably different, something that they couldn't quite articulate. It was the weight of a different set of years upon his face, the invisible scars of war that ran beneath his visible ones.

"What is it, Qa'Hom?" he asked, leaping down into the crevice.

"Footsteps. They came from that direction."

The Klingon tensed, eyeing the forest warily. An anxious minute passed. "Are you sure it was not your imagination?"

"I wasn't imagining it!"

Vullek pulled his eyes away and leaned against the base of the tree. "You are always extra paranoid when we have younger recruits with us. Come on, before Kilath kills them himself."

"They should have stayed on the ship," Carmen insisted. "Especially Baker. She's only been in battle once before. I don't think she's ready for a mission like this."

"That girl-Baker. She seems especially fond of you."

Carmen shrugged dismissively. "She misses her mother. And Klingons terrify her."

"What about you?" Vullek smirked.

"Klingons have never scared me. In fact, my father used to serve with one. His name was Worf-"

"I mean, do you miss your mother?" There was a prying sort of curiosity behind the Klingon's smirk. "You were sent to us before the age of ascension, after all."

"I never knew her, luckily," Carmen replied. "And my father died years ago. I don't think about them anymore. These children are not so fortunate; their parents still have a hold over their minds."

"Just as the children have a hold over yours."

Carmen bristled. "What are you talking about?" she snapped.

Vullek's jaw clenched sternly. "It is foolish of you, to get so attached. They never last long. And anyways, you were going on missions more dangerous than this when you were new."

Carmen gave him a frustrated groan. "Yes, but I had _you_ behind me, watching my every move."

The young warrior's face broke out with a grin. "I needed someone my size to pick on. If we lost you, then I would've only had Kilath and his brothers around. And _they_ know how to hit back."

"Go mate with a targ," she retorted. The Klingon laughed heartily, but Carmen just shook her head and sighed. "So did they tell you that? Not to get attached?"

Vullek's smirk faded. He tilted his head, regarding the young woman with something akin to affection. "Yes. But you know me. I never listen."

"Well, neither do I."

Vullek laughed again, and this time Carmen joined in. Then a moan strayed up from somewhere beyond. It almost sounded like the wind, but held a haunting note of anguish. Their laughter, and the warmth of the moment, vanished without a trace.

"I told you!" Carmen whispered, levelling her gun atop the roots once more and peering wildly into the dark. Another moan drifted towards them, punctuated by words this time. Riker's blood turned to ice as the words reached his ears.

" _Better to die...better to die…_ "

"We need to take a closer look," Vullek insisted. He leapt up, then turned around and held out a hand for the young woman. But the gesture was promptly ignored. The Klingon waited, shaking his head, as Carmen struggled on her own to climb out of the crevice.

"Are you coming or not?" she quipped once she reached the top, pushing past him and making for the powder-coated woods.

The moans grew louder as the pair made their way towards a thick cluster of underbrush. Vullek drew his disruptor and held it protectively before them. "Show yourself!" he demanded.

" _Better to die...better to die…_ "

A boot came into view. Then a leg. Then a torso dressed in a blood-soaked silver uniform. A Romulan lay on the cold ground, half-dead and delirious. Carmen could see the broken trail of foliage leading to where he had collapsed.

"Please!" the Romulan cried. But he wasn't pleading for his life. He grabbed the barrel of Vullek's disruptor and shoved it against his forehead, pleading for death instead. "They took the others! Don't let them take me, too! It is better to die...better to die…" He stared straight into the Klingon's eyes, trembling from exhaustion and fright.

Vullek's chest heaved. "Qa'Hom, get back to camp!" he ordered, his voice straining direly. "Now!"

Carmen turned and fled. She heard Vullek's disruptor fire and then his footsteps followed. The depth of the snow made it difficult for her to run, and now and again she tumbled over an errant root. But every time, Vullek yanked her to her feet and they continued on in silent, heart-pounding urgency.

An ugly sound reached them on the wings of the wind-the sound of battle. The blaze of weapon fire illuminated the hellish scene as Carmen and Vullek arrived at camp. Klingons, normally formidable in battle, were being torn apart by a harrowing hybrid race. They looked half-humanoid, half-machine, with apparatuses fused to their sallow, hairless skin. Diabolical weapons took the place of an occasional hand and sometimes an entire arm. Each one was adorned with a red, mechanical eye that seemed to pierce the gaze of even those watching from the safety of the viewing room. Picard inhaled sharply. "The Borg…"

Vullek leapt forth with a roar. Carmen followed suit, a battlecry tearing from her lungs. Riker's hands clenched into fists. The breath caught in his throat. Awe mingled with terror as they rushed fearlessly towards certain death.

The young woman snatched a bat'leth from a Klingon corpse and wielded it at the nearest Borg. Starlight glinted from the curved blade as it sheared into his chest, tearing the flesh away as easily as one scales a fish. Then she brought it back and plunged one end into the wound with a vicious cry.

"Miss Riker!"

Carmen spun around as her enemy fell at her feet. Baker was scrambling over a pile of dead bodies, trying to outrun a Borg that strode towards her with calm, wicked intent. "I'm coming!" she cried, surging forward. Riker's heart raced as fast as Carmen's feet as she closed the distance between herself and the frightened girl.

"Duck!" Carmen shouted. Baker dropped to the ground. Carmen leapt over her, the bat'leth singing as it sliced through the air and then across the Borg's neck. Riker's stomach lurched when the Borg's head flopped to the side, nearly severed.

Carmen pushed against its chest with her foot, too impatient to wait for its lifeless body to fall on its own. Then she turned towards the little girl. "Where's Morrow? Peterson?" She whimpered in reply, too distraught to answer. "Just stay behind me," Carmen rasped, taking hold of her narrow shoulders to force the child's gaze. "And stay sharp. It's going to be okay, Baker. Understand?"

The child lifted a trembling finger. "Look out!"

Carmen whipped around, shielding the girl with her body as another enemy bore down on them. It raised its arm, a bloody blade whirring in place of a fist. Then she dropped out of reach and slid her bat'leth across one of its legs. Blood spurted forth. The leg buckled. Yet the Borg made no sound of pain; its face remained eerily placid as it dragged itself towards her anew. Her bat'leth flew again, and this time the head rolled clean off.

Carmen took only a moment to catch her breath. "Come on," she urged. Baker followed her as she cleared a bloody path towards the trees. Several more Borg fell beneath her blade. The Klingons, too, fought back with relentless ferocity. One by one, Borg began to vanish into thin air. Sometimes they took a Klingon with them. Sometimes they left their enemy in a bloody, mangled mess.

Suddenly Carmen found herself tumbling through the snow. Her leg made a sickening crack as it twisted beneath her. Riker winced as an echo of pain shot up from his own leg. Then Baker screamed. The Borg that had struck Carmen asunder lifted the small girl into the air by her tunic. She squirmed desperately while two needle-like appendages protruded from the Borg's knuckles.

"No! Not her!" Carmen cried, gaping in helpless horror. The needles lodged themselves into the side of Baker's neck with a hiss and the girl went limp, still dangling in the air. "NOOOO!" A deep and anguished cry rose from Carmen's chest.

Vullek sprang from out of nowhere, tackling the Borg to the ground. Baker was flung to the side in the scuffle. She rolled across the muddy ground like a rag doll. Carmen crawled frantically to the child's side, her broken leg dragging uselessly behind her. "Baker? Can you hear me?"

Her eyes opened wide. Her skin had already begun to morph into a mottled, ashen gray. Every breath turned into a labored gasp. "M-Miss Riker?"

"I'm here." Tears broke through Carmen's voice. "Selena...that's what your mother called you, right?" She touched the girl's face with a tenderness that Riker had never seen her display before. "It's going to be okay, Selena. It's going to be okay..." Her other hand lifted, clutching a phaser tightly.

President Jaresh flattened himself against his seat as though the weapon were pointed at him. "Wh-what is she doing?" Then he flinched as Carmen's phaser released its charge. A bolt of energy struck the child squarely in the chest, ripping it open. Her head sank back to the ground and they all looked on, mortified, as the light seeped quickly from her eyes.

"She killed her!" Jaresh exclaimed.

Riker felt as though his own chest had ripped wide open. "Better to die," he said, hating the words even as he spoke them. Jaresh turned in his seat to look at him. "Assimilation," the commander explained. "Carmen saved her from assimilation."

A grim comprehension settled over Jaresh's face and over the entire assembly. All the while Carmen cradled the girl's lifeless body against hers. Muffled, heart-wrenching sobs drifted up as the final moments of battle drew to a close. Vullek appeared by her side, blood dripping from his blade.

"Come along, Qa'Hom. It is time to leave," he panted.

Carmen wiped her nose on her shoulder. "No. I want to bury her first."

"It is only an empty shell. At least she was not taken, like the boys."

"Please," Carmen begged. "Just this once, let me bury one of them."

"I warned you not to get attached," he reminded her. "For this here is the price, and I am growing weary of watching you pay it."

A lock of amber hair blew across the girl's face. Carmen's hand reached out to brush it away, then stopped short. "You are right," she mumbled, setting the crumpled body down in the snow and backing away. "I can't...I can't keep doing this."

Vullek cupped his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet. When he spoke again, his voice had softened. "Come on, Qa'Hom. Let's get back to the ship and take care of your leg. It looks broken."

As Carmen limped away, her gaze followed a bright red stream that ran over the white ground. Riker marvelled at the macabre beauty of the little girl's blood in vivid contrast with the snow. It would forever stain his memory.

Jaresh shuddered, turning away from the screen with tear-ridden eyes. "That is enough, Dejasa. No more. Please...no more."

The image faded into darkness. Gone was the wail of the wind. Gone was the black sky and white forest. But the child's lifeless face stayed in the minds of those who had seen it. Just as it had stayed in Carmen's mind.

"We will reconvene tonight at 1900 hours." Jaresh stood up wearily, burdened by some unseen weight. "Commander, will you see to her in the meantime?"

Leyton climbed hastily to his feet. "Your honor, she is _my_ charge-"

"No. She is Commander Riker's charge from now on. If that is alright with you, commander?"

A faint smile touched Riker's lips. It would have been more smug if not for the heaviness of his heart. "Yes, sir. That will be just fine."

* * *

 **A/N: So this is actually one of the first chapters I wrote, to help myself get a feel for Carmen's character (and Vullek). I'm very excited to show it to you now! What did you guys think? Also, side note, we've met Selena Baker before. It was in Chapter 33, Damage Done.**


	48. Give and Take

**A/N: Angel897 and Zara08-Thanks so much for your comments! :-)**

* * *

Twilight had descended when Carmen opened her eyes again. A blue-gray light floated in through a square window, which had been shut against the evening chill. She found herself lying on a small, white cot in a small, white room. A blanket had been tucked around her by some loving hand. Her head felt heavy, still bound in a fog from the sedative. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up and blot out the painful memories that Dejasa had brought to the surface.

"Carmen!" The commander's voice startled her. He sprang up from a chair at her bedside and swept her into his arms. Carmen stiffened, caught off-guard by the fervent embrace. But then she felt something pushing through her muddied senses like a life raft. A familiar warmth, a tender protectiveness, a quiet strength. And for a moment, it was easy to believe that she was back in her father's arms. So she closed her eyes and held on for a few moments longer.

"Selena-she's here, you know. In San Francisco. I looked her up," Riker said at last, pulling gently away and bringing his arms back to his sides.

Carmen's stomach fluttered. "She...she is?"

"She wouldn't recognize you of course. But she's with her mother now. And safe."

A quiver ran through the young woman's body. "This was all about her. And Peterson, and Morrow. I had to make sure your council saw their faces. Saw what happened to them." She cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of the lump that formed there. "There are so many similarities between my reality and yours. I...I couldn't let that be one of them."

"Because you never stopped caring." Riker placed a knuckled under her chin. "You care for others fiercely, even though you consider yourself a lone wolf. The war couldn't take that from you. And you know what I think? I think your father would be proud."

Tears welled in Carmen's eyes. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "Thank-you," she croaked, her voice muffled by his uniform. "Thank-you so much." This time as she hugged him, he was not her father, but the commander. He was the man who had saved her from the wreckage of her doomed fighter. He was the man who had taken exasperating, relentless responsibility for her. And after all of her attempts to keep him at a distance, here they were with no distance at all left between them.

"What about the council?" she inquired, the top of her head still tucked beneath his chin. "How did they take it?"

"Well, I have some bad news on that front," he said with a sigh. She turned her face up, worriedly searching his eyes.

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid that you're my charge again. President Jaresh's orders."

Carmen grinned ear to ear, unable to even feign disappointment. "I suppose we'll both just have to make do."

* * *

When the council met again, they did not convene in the courtroom. This time, Carmen sat with everyone at a long table in a briefing room of some kind. Its gray walls were just as barren, but a large window filled up the space to her right. Below, city lights twinkled bright as the stars, which seemed even brighter than usual to the young woman.

 _There is a sense of remorse from most of them. Jaresh especially._

Carmen couldn't help but look over at the counselor even though she had not spoken aloud. _Think this will go well then?_

 _I do._ Troi smiled soothingly.

 _Hey when this is all over, do you think you could teach me how to use my Betazoid abilities again? I think it would come in handy. Especially for my rematch with the commander._

Troi lifted a hand to stifle a giggle. Riker raised an eyebrow at them both.

"Alright, let us begin." Jaresh addressed everyone from the head of the table just then. He let out a deep, troubled breath and flattened the front of his robe. "Miss Riker, we have a few questions for you, if we may."

Carmen straightened, bringing her hands down from the tabletop and into her lap. "Go on."

"Well, first may I just say...may I apologize. I am sorry for what you went through. It should never have been. I know my words ring hollow after so much tragedy, but I promise you, children here will be the first to be saved should war rear its ugly head."

A murmur of agreement made its way around the table. Carmen's eyes softened gratefully.

"But should war happen, and should it be with the Borg...we ought to know all that we can about them."

"Ask anything, your honor."

Admiral Leyton spoke up hurriedly, almost excitedly. "When you arrived back at camp, why didn't you use your phaser? Why did you go for that-that-"

"Bat'leth," Carmen finished for him. "Because Vullek and I got there after the battle had already begun. No doubt they'd already adapted to our phasers."

"Adapted?" Leyton cocked his head.

"Yes. They excel at adaptation. And technology. Each Borg is equipped with a personal force field designed to work against energy weapons. After only one shot, their shield could adapt to the frequency of that weapon, rendering itself impervious to it."

"What if you modified the phaser's beam?" Laforge chimed in. Even with the visor across his eyes, Carmen could see the wheels turning in that quick mind of his. "Say, gave it a variable frequency instead of a singular one?"

"That's what we did." The young woman smiled at him fondly. "But it only ever worked for about ten or eleven shots before they adapted to that as well. Old-fashioned, hand-to-hand combat had the best success. Of course, that came with its own risks. Namely assimilation."

Jaresh shuddered, remembering the image of the child dangling in the Borg's grasp. "What happened to the girl? What were those...those _things_ that came out of the creature's hand?"

"We called them assimilation tubules," Carmen answered. "They use them to inject their victim with millions of nanoprobes. It can only be done in close proximity, however."

"Nanoprobes?" Jaresh repeated.

"Microscopic robots, essentially. They take over every system of the victim's body within a matter of minutes. Assimilation is quick, but extremely painful." She turned her face to the table suddenly, biting down on her lip. "From what I have seen, at least."

"They take over the mind as well?" Another councilman asked.

"It would seem so. But we never knew how much of the victim's consciousness remained, for we were never able to reverse assimilation."

"Never?"

"Never. And the more they assimilated, the more outnumbered we became. It was a losing fight with the Borg. It was the beginning of the end."

Leyton drew in a ragged breath. "There has to be some weakness. Some way to...to negotiate, perhaps."

Carmen's face darkened. "There is no negotiating. There is nothing they want, apart from assimilation. Believe me, admiral, I am sorry I cannot offer more."

Riker smiled at her wearily. "No, Carmen, you have done enough. Here _and_ there."

She reciprocated the smile, then turned towards Jaresh. "Still, I would like to do more. Please, your honor. Geordi-I mean Lieutenant Laforge-he has one of the best minds out there. Maybe we can come up with something-"

"The Enterprise has other responsibilities, Miss Riker," Leyton interjected. "And they have been detained on Earth long enough."

"Our main responsibility is to the Federation," Picard stated firmly. He cast Leyton a pointed glance, then cleared his throat to address the entire assembly. "And the Enterprise is her home. You are not the ones who stole it from her, but you _can_ be the ones to give it back. I implore you-let her choose her own fate for once. Surely you can find it in your hearts to do that much, after all she has lost."

"Believe me, we are sorry for what has happened." Larousse's callous voice cut across the table. "But she needs more than a home right now. She needs help. We have several rehabilitation colonies here on Earth, excellent ones-"

"Rehabilitation colonies?" Riker bellowed, leaning over the table angrily. "That's a fancy name for psych wards! She didn't come back just to be locked up again!"

Picard warned him with just a look. Then he turned back to Larousse. "She has already made strides with our own counselor. I believe this is a case that is well within Miss Troi's capabilities."

"We have an empathic connection," Troi explained. "I believe it is also unique because of the relation we share. Deanna Troi was her mother, remember. No other counselor will share the bond with her that I do."

Larousse nodded slowly, reluctantly. She looked to Jaresh, nothing further to add. The room fell deafeningly quiet. With a heavy sigh, Jaresh met the young woman's gaze. "Is this your desire, then? To return to the Enterprise?"

"Yes, your honor. Please." Her answer was simple. Dignified.

"And Picard, you will accept responsibility for her?"

"Fully."

Jaresh's eyes roved around the table once more, waiting for additional protest. No one offered any. And while Leyton looked positively seething, he remained seated in glum, ruminative silence.

"Very well. Miss Riker, I hereby release you to Captain Picard. Your duty falls to him. And to the Enterprise. We will be waiting to hear back on any progress you and Lieutenant Laforge make on anti-Borg technology. I wish you well, young lady. And I wish you peace."

Troi squeezed Riker's knee, both of them beaming. Carmen's chest seemed to collapse as she fell back into her chair. A dizzy sort of smile crossed her face. It felt as though the weight of the world-or rather, _two_ worlds-had been lifted from her shoulders.

Picard turned in his seat and extended a hand. "Welcome aboard, Ensign Riker. Welcome aboard."

* * *

 **A/N: There will be only one more chapter to tie up some loose ends (but at least two more "episodes" are in the works!). I'm not quite finished with it yet, so bear with me. Hopefully I'll have that final chapter for you sometime in the next few days. To everyone who has been reading along-thank you SO much. Thanks for spending time with me and Carmen on the Final Frontier!**


	49. Last Goodbyes

**A/N: Wow, I have been loving your guys' reviews! Thanks so much, honestly, it always puts a pep in my step. My 3-year-old daughter laughs at me because I even do a nerdy little dance sometimes. But I love feedback, and it's really what keeps me going. So thank-you thank-you thank-you! :-)**

 **TrekkieMutantXGirl-That means SO much to me that you look forward to each update! And yes! I will be continuing this storyline with Carmen for at least two more "episodes" :-)**

 **Angel987-You're so great!**

 **Bnewall1-Yay! I'm glad you like it! I don't really have an exact timeframe in mind. Definitely season 2 or 3 (minus the episodes dealing with the Borg), but I've altered things so much that it's basically a new take on the original timeline. Kind of like an alternate universe that deals with another alternate universe haha. I hope that answers your question!**

 **judygrasham-Ahh I'm so glad you picked up on that! It's a major part of her character, how she wants to care for others, and wants badly to develop relationships, but has these walls built from her trauma. Thanks for letting me know that I was successful in conveying that :-). And you definitely see where I'm going with Leyton, LOL! I love your reviews, thanks so much for taking the time to give me such awesome feedback! I hope you'll follow along with the next "episode" as well!**

* * *

It was a new day. Old-fashion jazz music drifted out the window, which had been thrown open to a morning breeze. Carmen knew she would miss that breeze. And the scent of the ocean. And the feeling of pure, unadulterated sunlight kissing her skin. But she also knew that she would go on to see more planets, and feel other suns, and stand on new shores. For the first time, excitement radiated from her chest to think of the future and all that it held.

"Are you going to eat that?" she asked the commander, pointing her fork at the remaining pancake on his plate.

"How on earth are you still hungry?" he exclaimed. "You've had what, four? Five? Shouldn't you stop soon?"

"Five." She puffed out her chest with pride. "And I'm no quitter."

Riker shook his head and laughed, then passed her his plate. "Here, be my guest!"

As Carmen dug in, a new song poured out of the speakers overhead. Its jaunty notes struck a chord in the young woman's heart, and a familiar voice sang from the pages of her mind.

 _"No more blues, I'm going back home_

 _No, no more blues, I promise no more to roam_

 _Home is where the heart is_

 _The funny part is my heart's been right there all along..._

 _No more fears and no more sighs,_

 _No more tears, I've said my last my last goodbyes_

 _If trouble beckons me, I swear I'm gonna refuse_

 _I'm gonna settle down, there'll be no more blues."_

Riker's gaze lifted to the speakers. A distant smile touched his lips. "That's her, isn't it?"

She paused mid-bite. "What?"

"Carmen McRae. That's who your father named you after."

The fork returned gently to her plate. "Yes," she admitted. "This was his favorite song. Is it yours, too?"

Riker nodded. "I made that connection awhile ago, actually. After I heard you singing it in Jarat's brig."

"Singing?" She scrunched her face is disdain. "I do not sing, commander."

"Not unless you've had some bloodwine first." Her cheeks turned cherry red, inspiring a hearty laugh from Riker as well as another gibe: "Let's just hope your trombone playing isn't as off-key!"

"You know I'm holding a sharp object, right?" she quipped, waving her fork. But a laugh of her own soon joined his.

"Will?" The counselor appeared behind them, holding a stack of folded garments. "Do you have extra room in your suitcase? Somehow I can never fit everything back into mine."

"Oh yeah!" Riker pushed away from the table, reminded. "I haven't even started packing yet."

"You always wait til the last minute, don't you?" Troi scolded.

Carmen looked up from a sizable bite. "Are we going back to the Enterprise?" she asked through a mouthful of pancake.

"No, not for two days," Troi answered. Then she studied the young woman with a fist on her hip. "Will didn't tell you, did he?"

Carmen gulped down her food. "Tell me what?"

Riker leaned over the back of his chair with a grin. "Hrm. Must have slipped my mind. I guess it'll have to be a surprise."

"I _hate_ surprises," she griped.

"Well you'll like this one." His grin turned impish. "Now if you could just finish your breakfast some time this century, we can get going. And don't worry-Alaska has pancakes too."

Carmen's jaw fell open. " _We're going to Alaska?"_

"Yeah." Riker's grin grew by about a mile. "The fishing should be great this time of year."

Carmen leapt up from the table, too excited to finish her breakfast. But just as her feet touched the floor, door chimes rang out through the small quarters.

"I'll get it," Riker offered, dabbing at his beard with a napkin. He whistled alongside Carmen McRae's voice and headed towards the door. But his whistling-and his cheerful demeanor-died abruptly when he recognized the man standing upon their threshold.

"Did you need something, Admiral Leyton?" he growled.

Leyton smirked, unfazed by the frigid greeting. "Yes. I'd like to speak with the young lady, please."

Riker eyed him for a moment, then stepped back and folded his arms. "Go right ahead."

" _Alone_ ," Leyton added. Riker bristled.

"It's alright," Carmen insisted, her voice cutting through the thick tension. She touched the commander gently on the arm and sent him a reassuring smile. "I'll be right back."

Riker kept a wary eye on Leyton as Carmen joined him. There was something overly smug about the admiral's smile as he placed a hand on Carmen's back and guided her down the hall. Even after the door closed behind them, Riker and his scowl remained.

Troi drew herself up to his side. "That's strange…"

Riker sent her a quizzical glance. "What's strange?"

"Leyton. He looked so calm on the outside, but I sensed that he was...worried. Desperate, almost."

"Why would he be desperate? Should we have let Carmen go with him? Maybe I should bring her back-" He moved to the door and lifted a hand to the panel.

"No, no. That's not necessary." Troi stopped him and then pointed to her temple with a sly glint. "But I'll be listening, just in case."

* * *

"Magnificent view, isn't it?" Leyton and Carmen had come to a stop in front of a curved window at the end of the hall. San Francisco bustled below, drenched in sunshine. The Golden Gate Bridge stood over the bay like a guardian, wearing a crown of wispy, white clouds.

"Yes," Carmen agreed. "It is so different from seeing things on the holodeck."

Leyton's tongue flicked over his lips. "You...you could stay here, you know."

Carmen tore her eyes away from the city, fixing them on the admiral instead. "What do you mean?"

Leyton laced his fingers together at his waist and drew in a deep breath. "I want you to join my team, Miss Riker. Think of all you could accomplish for Starfleet, working alongside the Chief of Operations. You could help me train our forces. You could even have your own command, if you'd like."

Her heart raced. "My own command? But...I'm just an ensign."

"In Picard's eyes, yes. But you have more experience, more training, than half the people on his ship. Do you really belong on the bottom?"

She squared her jaw. "It doesn't bother me."

"I could call on any scientist in Starfleet," he persisted. "We don't need that Lieutenant Laforge. With your combat experience, with your knowledge of Romulans and Borg, imagine the weapons you could help us create!"

"Weapons…?" Carmen receded a step.

"Is it the commander?" Leyton placed both of his hands atop her shoulders, preventing her from retreating any farther. "Miss Riker, I know you've developed a bond with him. But he's not your father. He's a career-driven man, an ambitious man. I'm sure he wouldn't want to hold you back. I mean, how much longer before _he_ leaves the Enterprise in search of better opportunities? It's not like he has a family or anything tying him down."

Carmen's eyes drifted back to the window. She had never considered that before. But as much as the thought stung, she forced it to the back of her mind. This was about her opportunities, not his. And she had never been in such a position before, never had to choose a future, or even try to picture one. Yet somehow, all she could see was snow-capped mountains. And all she could feel was a cold, running creek splashing at her legs. And all she could hear was that familiar, crooning voice singing of home.

"I'm sorry, admiral," she said at last. "But I'm going fishing. And after that, I'm going home-where my heart's been all along."

Leyton's hands fell from her shoulders. His face darkened with disappointment. "Are you _sure?_ "

"Yes. I'm sure."

He clicked his tongue. "Well, if you ever change your mind, please let me know."

"I will," she promised. "And admiral? Thank-you for your kindness." She offered him a hand, which he shook with a despondent sigh.

"Don't mention it. Safe travels, Miss Riker. It can be dangerous out there."

* * *

Leyton sat before his desk, rubbing his chin in worry. He had been sitting there for over an hour already. A small, blinking red light pulled him from his troublesome thoughts. He pushed a button on a large screen and it wasn't long before a man's face came into view.

"Reporting in as you requested, sir."

"Yes, yes. How are things going, Wharton?"

"No problems, sir."

"How are our guests? Any sign of a mothership yet?"

"No, sir. Whatever happened when they crossed over, I think it disabled their means of communication. Either that or their kind doesn't exist here."

"We should be so lucky," Leyton retorted. "At any rate, it looks like we are safe to proceed. Just keep your distance, and keep them immobilized. The young lady said assimilation requires close proximity, remember."

"About her, sir...will she be coming with you?"

Leyton hissed out an irritated noise. "No. She is one of those wretchedly loyal types, I'm afraid. I couldn't convince her to leave the Enterprise."

"But he won't talk without her! She was the only leverage we had!"

"Don't worry," he snapped. "Lots of things happen out there in space, you know."

There was a nervous pause on the other side. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean away missions go wrong all the time," Leyton said, smiling darkly. "People just...come up missing."

"Sir, you said her training was extensive. I doubt it would be easy to take her against her will."

"She's a nineteen-year-old girl, for crying out loud! And reckless as they come. We'll think of something."

Another nervous pause. And then came the begrudging reply: "Yes, sir."

* * *

 **I hope you liked that twist at the end! I was ridiculously excited to post this last chapter because of it. And while that's it for "Somewhere Out There," Carmen's adventures will continue with the next episode, which I'll publish under its own heading. I hope you'll follow along with that one, too! Once I've posted the first chapter for that, I'll write an update on here to let you know. It should be soon, hopefully this week! I have so much gratitude for everyone who has read along with me. I started this story just before moving into my first real home, so these chapters have become attached to a figurative chapter in my life. Thanks for being a part of it with me :-).**

 ***One more thing, the song in here, which I've quoted in a couple of other chapters as well ("No More Blues"), is a real song! So I didn't write the lyrics. It just happens to be one of my favorite songs.**


	50. Next

**Author's Note: The first chapter of the next episode is up! It's under a separate story on my account, entitled "Dust and Shadow." I hope you'll follow along :-). Once again, thanks for all the reviews, you guys are simply the best. And bnewall1-that is a crazy cool idea! I love it! :-) And I am also a Riker-Troi fan, so there will definitely be more of that in the next episode!**


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